IPS 3507 
P16 M3 
1907 



ADEMOISELL£ 
M ERO WS K A 

A Play in Three Acts. By J.P.Dabney 



Mademoiselle Mero wska 



H pla^ in XTbree Hcts 



jfP^DABNEY 



BROOKHNE, MASS. 

Privately Puintkd 

1907 



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5 7W(J Copies R6eeived \ 

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PS 3507 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
Peiestly Bennington A wealthy New York hanker 

Priestly Bennington, Jr. Known to his friends as 'Tris" 
Informally engaged to Violet Ascott 



Senator Klorhammer 
Professor Von Ginkel 



Of the United States Senate 

Of the International Psychical 

Research Society 

A young millionaire 



A private detective 



Clay Cadrinhgam 

Colonel Jaswell. 

Watson 

Mrs. Priestly Bennington. 

Mademoiselle H^lene Merowska. 

Mrs. Ascott. 

Violet Ascott. 

Fanny Lamb. 

Mrs. Jaswell 

Mrs. Klorhammer. 

The scene passes at Scarlands, Mr. Bennington's country 
seat in Westchester County. 

Time — The Present. 



Copyright, 1907 
By J. F. Dabney 



Mademoiselle Merowska 



ACT L 

MID-AFTEENOON OF A LOVELY JUNE DAY, 

Scene: One of the parlors at Scarlands, a large, airy room, 
handsomely furnished. At centre of hack there are 
two French tvindows, opening onto a hroad covered 
piazza; 'beyond is seen a garden and trees. The win- 
dows stand open. At right, in the centre, is a door, 
and at left centre, a corresponding door. Down stage, 
between the door and front of stage, L. there is an open 
fireplace, before which, and partly concealing it, there 
is a half opened screen. In front of the screen, near 
front of stage, a large arm chair. Up stage L., a grand 
piano, open, ivith music lying about. Doion stage, R. a 
large round table with lamp and books upon it. In front 
of the table, facing auditorium, a sofa and group of 
chairs. Up stage R. a small tea table. Other furni- 
ture to suit. Pictures, ornaments, electric fixtures, all 
very handsome. Flowers. Mrs. Bennington is discov- 
ered lounging upon the sofa, fanning herself. Mrs. 
Ascott is sitting near her, busily embroidering. Mrs. 
Bennington is a large, pulpy, good-natured looking 
woman; Mrs. Ascott is slenderer and more stylish. 
Both ladies are about forty-five or so, and both are 
dressed in handsome house goions. 



Mrs. Benn. — How industrious you are, Adelaide! 

Mrs. Ascott. — I like to be employed, you know; — I'm rest- 
less. 

Mrs. Benn. — How can you be restless on such a hot day? 

Mrs. Ascott. — {Laying down her work with a lady-like 
yawn.) Oh, what a long — I mean what a hot afternoon 
this has been! 

Mrs. Benn. — {Smiling good-humor edly.) Yes, hasn't it? 
and it's too early to have tea — that would make a 
break. 

Mrs. Ascott. — And where are the children all this while? 

Mrs. Benn. — They went to walk with Helene Merowska. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Oh, yes, I remember. Violet told me. 



Mrs. Benn. — Pris wanted to show her the view from the 
Scar. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (With another little yawn.) I can fancy 
just how she'll enthuse. 

Mrs. Benn. — Isn't she perfectly fascinating? 

Mrs. Ascott. — Perfectly fascinating! 

Mrs. Benn. — So delicate, so tactful, so je ne sais quoi! 

Mrs. Ascott. — And she speaks English so perfectly! 

Mrs. Benn. — Oh, she's cosmopolitan and speaks all lan- 
guages. She really seems to have the world at her fin- 
ger-tips, as it were. 

Mrs. Ascott. — I've told the girls to watch her and they'll 
get points on style. 

Mrs. Benn. — Ah, they will. I never saw anybody like her. 

Mrs. Ascott. — And where did you pick her up? 

Mrs. Benn. — My dear Adelaide, what a way to speak of my 
beautiful Helene! Rather ask where did she pick me 



up 



Mrs. Ascott. — Well, if you like it better, where did she 
pick you up? 

Mrs. Benn. — Why, I met her everywhere in Paris last win- 
ter; she was so popular. She was a sort of honored 
companion to the old Marquise de Villevielle. She 
helped her conduct her Salon and entertain the 
guests. 

Mrs. Ascott. — She could certainly do that to perfection. 

Mrs. Benn. — Oh, I believe you! And she was so perfectly 
lovely with the Marquise. The Marquise is old, you 
know, and rather difficult, but Helene managed her 
beautifully. 

Mrs. Ascott. — I dare say. 

Mrs. Benn. — The dear thing and I were friends from the 
first, — so sympathetic! She's an exile, you know; so 
sad! 

Mrs. Ascott. — The Marquise? 

Mrs. Benn. — No, no, Helene. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Oh! 

Mrs. Benn. — Her father was a Polish nobleman. Merow- 
ska isn't the real name, you know. Helene has to 
conceal the real name on account of the persecution. 

Mrs. Ascott. — The persecution? 



Mbs. Benn. — (Mysteriously.) He was a patriot, you know, 
was executed or something. I don't know what. It's 
all very mysterious. Helene can't talk about it; she 
says it's too painful. 

Mrs. Ascott. — I should think so. 

Mes. Benn. — When I asked her to come over and spend the 
summer with me she accepted at once. Wasn't it 
sweet of her? 

Mes. Ascott. — (A little sarcastically.) Sweet. 

Mes, Benn. — We're all in love with her here. I never saw 
Priestly so taken with anyone, and as for Pris — 

Mrs. Ascott. — Well? — Pris? 

Mes. Benn. — He follows her about like a spaniel. 

Mes. Ascott. — Humph! 

Mbs. Benn. — The experience will be a liberal education to 
him. Pris needs polishing. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Rather sharply.) I think Pris is very 
well as he is. 

Mrs. Benn. — (With a heatific smile.) There they are 
now. (Helene is heard to laugh outside.) Did you 
ever hear such a laugh? 

Mrs. Ascott. — Very musical. 

Mrs. Benn. — (Beaming.) So contagious! When Helene 
laughs everybody else wants to laugh, whether they 
know what about or not. (Helene's voice is heard 
outside.) 

HELENE. — (Outside.) Now; — all together; — one, two, three! 
(Helene, Violet and Fanny come dancing together 
through the open French ivindow R. Pris follows 
behind, laughing. Helene is tall and willowy, and 
wears masses of fluffy tlonde hair. She has a gay, 
insouciante manner. The two girls are very young, 
about seventeen. Violet is a typical girl of the period, 
rosy and pretty. Fanny is smaller, pale and rather 
sentimental looking. All three are in walking cos- 
tume, and Helene wears a rose at her bosom. Pris 
is a tall, callow youth of about the same age as the 
girls. Helene comes between the two girls, and has 
an arm about the waist of each. They dance loith 
a little impromptu, skipping step, and, as they come 
into the room, Helene swings them off with a little 
laugh.) 



6 

H£lI:ne. — (Gaily.) Aha, ha! That was fine, — what you 
Americans call immense, — wasn't it? 
(She speaks English fluently 'but with a delicate 
accent.) 

Violet, Fanny, Pkis. — {In chorus.) Im-mense! 

Hel]&ne. — We might almost apply for an engagement in 
the grand ballet, mightn't we? 

Mrs. Ascott. — You must study the way in which Made- 
moiselle takes her steps, girls. 

Mrs. Benn. — (Beaming.) Yes, Helene, dear; you ought to 
take the children in hand, and give them a little 
polishing in their dancing. It will do them good. 

Hi;LENE. — Oh, I should be charmed. I love dancing. 

Mrs. Benn. — (Beaming.) I think you love everybody and 
everything, you dear thing! 

H^L^NE. — (Gaily.) Oh, I have my aberrations. I can hate 
too on occasion. 

Mrs. Benn. — I don't believe it. 

Helene. — (Playfully.) Wait till you see the cloven hoof. 
(She playfully puts out one very daintily shod foot. 
Mrs. Ascott puts up her lorgnette and inspects it.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Satirically.) If that's a specimen of a 
cloven hoof, I think we'd better all cultivate them. 

Pris. — Just fancy going for a tramp in those flimsy slip- 
pers! 

HfiLENE. — It was a pull, wasn't it? 

Fanny. — We had to rest ever so long! 

Violet. — In the shade of the oaks. 

Helene. — Oh, we were like a group of Corot nymphs with 
Apollo in the centre. (They all laugh. Pris looks 
sheepish.) 

Violet. — And, oh, mama, Mademoiselle has been telling us 
the most wonderful things. 

(The childten all begin to talk excitedly, interrupting 
one another.) 

Fanny. — We were talking about ghosts and things — 

Violet. — And she said — 

Pris. — And she said — 

Violet. — Don't interrupt me, please. (Pushing him play- 
fully.) 

Pris. — Oh, you want to do all the talking yourself! 



Violet. — Well, you know you can't talk, Pris. Go and sit 
down gracefully in a corner. 

Fanny. — She's been telling us such stories — 

Violet. — About table-tipping — 

Pris. — And will-power — 

Fanny. — And hypnotizing — 

Violet. — What do you think, mama; a table once followed 
her all round the room. 

Mrs. Benn. — Mercy on us! How uncanny! 

Mrs. Ascott. — (With a satirical laugh.) Well, I should 
like to see any table follow me. 

Violet. — But it's perfectly true, mama. Isn't it, Made- 
moiselle? 

HiiLENE. — Oh, of course, perfectly; and it's great fun. 

Fanny. — And she says, Auntie, that if you look anyone 
steadily enough in the eye and will them to do some- 
thing, they'll do it. 

Mrs. Benn. — I've always regarded that sort of thing as 
newspaper stories, made up to scare people. 

HelSne. — (Laughing.) Oh, chere ai7iie, you are so inno- 
cent! 

Mrs. Ascott. — Oh, I dare say, some people have a sort of 
supernatural gift. 

Helene. — (Seating herself with an indifferent manner.) 
The question is not so much one of supernatural gift 
as of a developed will-power. Everyone, I fancy, has 
the channels within himself, only he has not learned 
to turn on the currents. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Somewhat sarcastically.) You speak as if 
one had but to press a button, like electricity. Do 
you suppose that I, for instance, could ever hypnotize 
anybody? 

Helene. — (Amiably.) Why not? Have you not a strong 
will? (The others all laugh; Mrs. Ascott looks cross.) 

Mrs. Benn. — (Smiling.) Helene has scored you there, 
Adelaide. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Sarcastically.) Perhaps you would be my 
instructor? 

Heli:ne. — With all my heart. Shall we try some experi- 
ments? 

Violet, Fanny. — (Together.) Oh, mama, do! Oh, Auntie, 
do! 



8 

Pris. — Yes, yes; let's try 'em now. There's plenty of time 
before anyone else comes. 

H:6lI;ne. — (To Mrs. Bennington.) You are willing, cJiere 
amie? 

Mes. Benn. — (Affectionately.) Whatever you wish, dear 
Helene. Please yourself. 
(Helene, Pris and the two girls clap their hands.) 

Violet, Fanny, Pris. — (In chorus.) Oh, it will be great 
fun! (Helene stands up.) 

HELi:NE. — Well, we must have two chairs. Pris, two chairs, 
please. (Pris brings two chairs.) Set them facing 
each other; — so. (She sets the chairs in the centre 
of the room, facing each other.) Now, who will try 
first? (To Mrs. Ascott.) Will you, madame? 

Violet. — Oh, mama, do. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Interested.) Well, I don't care; — but I 
know I can't do a thing. 

H^Li^NE. — Please sit here, madame. (Seats Mrs. Ascott in 
one of the chairs.) Will you experiment with Violet? 

Violet. — Oh, please, mama. 

(Violet seats herself in the other chair, facing her 
mother, the two chairs 'being close together in the 
centre. The others draw around looking on inter- 
estedly.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — Now what? 

Helene. — Fix your eyes steadily upon Violet's for a few 
moments, — so; then move your hands, so. Eh Men. 
(Helene stands behind Violet and shows Mrs. Ascott 
how to make passes.) Now, will that she shall do 
something and she will do it. 

(There are a few minutes' silence during ivhich Mrs. 
Ascott stares at Violet, while the others watch. Violet 
stiffens cataleptically, rises slowly, moves a step or 
tiDo forward, sways about for a moment and then 
suddenly runs to her mother and drops upon her 
knees beside her.) 

Violet. — Oh, I'm so sorry, mama, but I really don't know 
what it is. 
(The others all laugh. Mrs. Ascott looks mortified.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Disgustedly.) There! You see there's 
nothing at all in it. (She gets up.) 



9 

H]&l£:ne. — Ah, the experiment is not a success, madame, 
because you permitted your mind to waver. You must 
not let your mind waver. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Oh! 

H^LENE. — Suppose you let me try. Tell me what it was 
you wished Violet to do and I will see if I can make 
her do it. 

Violet. — (Shrinking.) Oh, no, I — I'm frightened. Take 
Fanny. 

Hel^ne. — (Affectionately.) Little Fanny is so romantic! 

Mrs. Ascott. — Yes, you might try Fanny. She's a better 
subject, I fancy. 

Violet. — She used to walk in her sleep when she was little. 

Helene. — (Looking curiously at Fanny.) Indeed! Would 
you like to try, Petite? 

Fanny. — (Gushingly.) Oh, ever so much! 

HiiLENE. — Come here then. Now — sit here. (She seats 
Fanny in one of the chairs and places herself in the 
other.) Are you afraid, little one? 

Fanny. — Afraid — with you, Mademoiselle? 

Helene. — That's right. Now — look me in the eyes — so. 
(She fixes her gaze intently upon Fanny's face. Fanny 
stiffens up and becomes cataleptic. Her eyes assume 
a vacant expression. In the same intent manner 
Helene makes some passes 'before Fanny's face; then 
she rises, goes to the piano and strikes a loud chord 
upon it. Authoritatively.) Now! — dance! 
(Fanny rises slowly and glides forward with a sinuous 
motion. Helene plays some slow, rather ivild, music 
and Fanny begins to dance. The others stand or sit 
about, watching with a sort of awe-struck fascina- 
tion, while Fanny performs a graceful and elaborate 
oriental dance with much posturing. At the close 
Helene strikes another loud chord, comes forward to 
Fanny and makes a pass or two before her face. 
Authoritatively.) Wake! 

(Fanny sinks into the nearest chair as if exhausted, 
rubs her hand over her eyes and behaves as if she 
were waking from sleep. There is a buzz of admira- 
tion from the spectators, except from Mrs. Ascott, who 
looks very much disturbed. She rises, goes over to 
Fanny and grasps her by the arm.) 



10 

Mbs. Ascott. — (Sternly.) Where dfd you learn that dance, 
Fanny? 

Fanny. — (Blankly.) What dance? 

Mrs. Ascott. — That oriental dance you've just been dancing. 
Where' did you learn it? Your mother can't know 
anything about it, I am sure. 

Fanny. — (Plaintively.) I don't know any oriental dance. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Angrily.) How dare you say that to me 
when you've just been dancing it and we've all seen 
you? (Shakes her slightly.) 

Fanny. — (Beginning to cry.) I don't know any oriental 
dance. Oh, Auntie, please let go my arm; you're 
hurting me. (3Irs. Ascott releases Fanny's arm, hut 
she still regards her very harshly.) 

Helene. — (Affectionately, taking Fanny's hand in hers and 
patting it.) No, of course she doesn't. Don't you see, 
ladies, that the child was only hypnotized? I was 
determined to convince you. I thought she looked as 
if she could dance easily and so I willed her to dance. 
That is all. 

Mrs. Ascott. — She did it suspiciously well. 

Mrs. Benn. — I don't like it at all. It's all very uncanny, 
and makes me feel creepy — crawly. 

Violet. — Oh, let's not try any more experiments. 

Helene. — (Suavely.) No, we will not. We will have some 
music and forget all about it. 

(She goes over to the piano, leading Fanny by the 
hand, Pris and Violet following.) 

Pris. — Oh, Vi, isn't she wonderful! 

Violet. — I didn't like it at all, Pris. 

(Helene seats herself at the piano, Fanny on one side 
of her, Violet on the other. Pris leans over the piano 
gazing at her. She does not play hut sits laughing 
and talking with them in dumh show. They appear 
to be very merry. Mrs. Bennington has sunk back 
upon the sofa and is fanning herself. Mrs. Ascott 
moves about restlessly, taking up books from the table 
and putting them down again absent-mindedly.) 

Mrs. Benn. — Do you hear wheels, Adelaide? 

Mrs. Ascott. — No, I don't hear anything. 



11 

Mrs. Benn. — It's high time the wagonette got back from 
the station. Oh, I do hope Priestly will come out on 
this train. I simply hate to have strange men on my 
hands. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Who have you asked besides the Jaswells 
and the Klorhammers? 

Mes. Benn. — Only two or three men, but I don't know 
whether any of them will turn up. Clay Cadringham 
is always an uncertain quantity, you know. 

Mes. Ascott. — Clay Cadringham! You haven't asked Mm? 

Mes. Benn. — Yes; — why not? 

Mes. Ascott. — Harriet! Think of his character! 

Mes. Benn. — His character — ? 

Mes. Ascott. — So worthless! 

Mrs. Benn. — Yes, I know he's rather wild, but he is asked 
everywhere. 

Mes. Ascott. — I shouldn't ask him to my house. 

Mes. Benn. — (Comfortably.) My dear Adelaide, one can't 
ignore Clay Cadringham. His mother was a Van 
Skaagerack and his sister has married the Duke of 
Goldsworthy. Then — think of his millions! 

Mes. Ascott. — They don't whitewash him. 

Mes. Benn. — He's clever, you know, and I thought he would 
amuse Helene. She met him on the steamer coming 
over, and found him very entertaining, she says. And 
anything that might amuse my dear Helene — 

Mrs. Ascott. — Oh, well, if it's to amuse Mademoiselle. 
She's certainly old enough to take care of herself; 
but I shall warn the girls. 

Mrs. Benn. — (Laughing comfortably.) My dear Adelaide, 
you can warn anybody you want. 
(Professor Von Ginkel appears R. upon the piazza 
outside of the open French window. He is a gro- 
tesque little man with a large head, very Mid on top, 
with a fringe of long grey locks hanging to his shoul- 
ders. He wears large round spectacles which give 
him an owlish appearance. He is shabbily dressed 
and wears a long crumpled duster almost down to his 
heels. He carries a large Panama hat crushed under 
one arm, and holds in his hand a little pasteboard box. 
As Helene catches sight of him — she sits facing the 
window — she gives a little start.) 



12 

Pris. — Are you cold, Mademoiselle?* 

Helene. — Just a little. I think perhaps I got too hot on 
the walk. 

Pris. — I'll shut the window. 

Helene. — Oh, no, please don't. 

Professor. — {Calling.) Frees! Frees! {Pris looks round.) 

Pris. — Oh, is that you. Professor? 

Professor. — (Excitedly.) An moth! An splendid lunar 
moth! 

Pris. — (Going towards Mm.) Where did you find it? 

Professor. — Under der sun-dial it crouching vas. 

(Pris and the Professor examine the contents of the 
tox. Helene turns her Mck and talks to the girls.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Putting up her lorgnette and staring at the 
Professor.) Good gracious! Who is that dreadful 
freak? 

Mrs. Benn. — Sh— h! He'll hear you. That's Professor Von 
Ginkel, the great German scientist, you know. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Never heard of him in my life. 

Mrs. Benn. — He's a dear. 

Mrs. Ascott. — You mean a scarecrow. 

Mrs. Benn. — He's living in the Merritt cottage this sum- 
mer. He's taken a great fancy to Pris, and runs in 
and out just as he pleases. 

Mrs. Ascott. — I should think it would give you the night- 
mare. 

Mrs. Benn. — (Jumping up.) There! I do hear wheels. 
They've come. I must go and meet them. Dear Mrs. 
Klorhammer — ! (She goes hurriedly out R. Mrs. 
Ascott follows her more slowly.) 

Pris. — (Taking the Professor's arm and dragging him for- 
ward.) You must come in, Professor, and let me in- 
troduce you to the most charming woman in the 
world. 

Professor. — Ach, mine Frees, der are so many sharming 
vimens in der vorld! 

Pris. — But none like this one. 

(He draws the Professor toward the piano.) Made- 
moiselle? (Helene rises.) Let me introduce to you 
Professor Von Ginkel. Mademoiselle Merowska. 
(The Professor stares at Helene, linking. Helene 
moves forward with easy grace, extending her hand.) 



13 

H^LENE. — (Suavely.) I am charmed to meet Professor Von 
Ginkel. 

(The Professor near-sighteclly makes a 'bo'bhing "bow, 
hitting Helene's extended hand which he has not seen, 
thereby knocking off his own spectacles. There is a 
scramble for the spectacles and they are restored to 
the Professor.) 

Professor. — Ach! I a thousand pardons beg. (Bows 
again, hacking into Pris, who skips out of his way. 
Pris and the girls make an effort to conceal their 
laughter. Helene is serenely gracious.) 

H:fiLi:NE. — Pris has told me about you, Professor. 

Professor. — Ach, soh! 

HfiL^NE. — And you are making collections and things? 

Professor. — A few specimens, ven I dem behold, I collect. 

Helene. — How interesting! And do you always put pins 
through them? 

Professor. — Somedimes. 

Pris. — (Roguishly.) And sometimes they get away, Pro- 
fessor. 

HelI:ne. — (Archly.) Ah, you need to be very careful, Pro- 
fessor. 

Professor. — (Solemnly.) Dot is so. 

H^LfiNE. — Butterflies are such slippery things. 

Professor. — Slibbery — ? 

HELENE. — And the world is so large. 

Professor. — (Not understanding her badinage and looking 
at her with a puzzled air.) Ach, soh! 
(Mrs. Bennington's voice is heard at the door, R.) 

Mrs. Benn. — Yes, it's simply suffocating; but perhaps a 
cup of tea — 

(Enter R. Mrs. Bennington and Mrs. Ascott, ushering 
in Mrs. Klorhammer and Mrs. Jaswell. Senator Klor- 
hammer, Colonel Jaswell and Priestly Bennington 
bring up the rear. Mrs. Klorhammer is a large 
woman with an impressive manner. Senator Klor- 
hammer is a large man with an effusive manner. He 
wears long mustachios and a goatee, and has a loud 
voice. Priestly Bennington is a middle-aged man, 
close-shaved, well dressed, with a quiet, self-contained 
manner. The Jaswells are a young couple, unnotice- 
able. As the party enters, the Professor dodges hastily 
out of the open window and disappears R. Pris and 
the girls giggle.) 



14 

Mbs. Benn. — Pris, dear, ring fof tea. (Pris touches an 
electric bell.) Helene, dearest — {Helene goes for- 
ward.) My dear Polish friend, ladies. 

Mbs. Klor.— (Effusively.) Perfectly delighted. (Shakes 
hands. ) 

Mrs. Jaswell. — Heard so much of you. (Shakes hands. 
The men how. A man-servant enters R. bringing a 
tray with tea-things, which he sets down upon the 
little table.) 

Mbs. Benn. — You must pour the tea, Helene. You have 
such an art; nobody can do it like you. 

H^L^NE. — Oh, if you wish me to, cherie. (She seats her- 
self at the tea-table.) 

Mrs. Benn. — You'll have a cup of tea, Professor, won't you? 
(Looking round.) Why, where has he gone? 

Pris. — Fled — like a phantom of night. 

Violet (aside). An owl. 

(Helene pours tea and the others all draw around. 
Most of the ladies seat themselves. Pris and the two 
girls serve. Bennington and Senator Klorhammer, 
holding their cups in their hands, draw to the front 
conversing.) 

Benn. — Now about that project of yours, Senator? 
Klor. — Oh, I tell you, it's the biggest thing yet; — the 
Wirra-Wirra Valley Improvement Company, you know. 

Benn. — Yes, I've heard some talk of it on the street. 

Klob. — (Grandly.) Oh, you'll hear a good deal more 
before we get through. We're going to make every 
combine up to date look like thirty cents. 

Benn. — (Raising his eyebrows.) Indeed! 

Klor. — Why, sir, there's the Cyclops Dam Irrigation Com- 
pany, and the National Land Company, and the Calen- 
turas Mining Company, and deuce knows how many 
little other fellows, all consolidated into one deal that, 
when it gets in working order, will make the world 
stare. 

Benn. — I should like to get at the details. 



15 

Klor. — You shall have 'em, Bennin^on. You shall have 
'em. We've got the whole thing sketched out in the 
rough. I've brought the survey papers and all the 
rest of it in my trunk to talk it over with you. You'll 
see the magnitude of the scheme with half an eye. 

Benn. — I dare say. 

Klob. — (Expansively.) We have an option on the whole 
county of Wirra-Wirra, you know, and concessions 
from the Mexican government give us as much more. 
Five hundred square miles of territory to be de- 
veloped. 

Benn. — (Dryly.) Ah! — to he. 

Klor. — You just wait until we build our giant dam at upper 
Calenturas. I'm working now on a bill I'm going to 
lay before Congress next term on special irrigation 
privileges. If it goes through, by hokey, sir, we shall 
have the biggest pull of any corporation in the world. 

Benn. — (Quietly.) Oh! 

Klob. — But we must get the railroad first to open up the 
country. 

Benn. — A pretty long one, won't it be? 

Klor. — Oh, so, so. Just a few hundred miles. 

Benn. — Humph! Mountains? tunnels? trestles? 

Klob. — Oh, that's all right. It's carefully surveyed and 
will be a marvel of engineering. You'll see. What 
we want now is a backer. 

Benn. — Naturally. 

Klob, — Well, that's what I'm coming at. In fact, Benning- 
ton, what we want is for your firm to finance the 
railroad. 

Benn. — Ah! 

Klob. — I tell you there's big money in it. 

Benn. — (Without enthusiasm.) Well, I'll look over the 
papers and we'll talk again about it. 

Klob. — That's all right. You'll see that it's a clear case of 
pulling off millions. There'll be the regular commis- 
sions — and the company is ready to be very liberal 
in the matter of those; — and — er — of course, one 
doesn't do something for nothing. 

Benn. — (Smiling.) Not very often. 



16 

Klor. — (Confidentially.) Well, s'ir, I'll tell you what. We 
need the name of Bennington Brothers & Company 
looming up large behind us to the world and, if you 
will put the thing through with your people, there'll 
be a tidy little block of fifty thousand Wirra-Wirra 
shares all ready for your private safe? See? You 
walk in on the ground floor and nothing said to any- 
body. 

Benn, — (Without enthusiasm.) H'm. Wirra-Wirra is 
worth five dollars a share on the market. 

Klor. — In ten years it will be worth five hundred; see if 
it isn't. 

Benn. — Yes, it looks gilded; but I'll look over the papers 
and we'll talk further about it. 

Klor. — That's right. If I'm anything I'm fair and above 
board. 
(A gong sounds outside.) 

Mrs. Benn. — (Rising.) Oh, yes, you must be awfully tired 
and want to rest before dinner. 

(The ladies all rise and move toward the door L. 
Bennington and Klorhammer put down their cups and 
join the others. The whole company goes out L. ex- 
cept Helene and Fanny, who are lagging behind the 
others. Helene has her arm around Fanny.) 

Helene. — We are going to be great friends, I am sure, 
aren't we, petite? 

Fanny. — Oh, Medemoiselle! 

HfiLliNE. — We are so congenial, so sympathetic; — eh? 

Fanny. — (Gushingly.) Oh, Mademoiselle, you don't know 
how I love you! 

Helene. — Well, that's very delightful; — to be loved, you 
know. 

Fanny. — And may I — might I — call you "Helene"? 

H^LifcNE. — Why, of course, little one; when we are alone, 
but not before others. We might shock what you 
call your Mrs. Grundy. 

Fanny. — Oh, I'll be ever so careful. 

H]g;LENE. — It shall be a little secret just between us two. 

Fanny. — Oh, I shall just love to have a secret with you. 
Mademoiselle — I mean, Helene. 



17 

H^L^NE. — (Gaily.) Oh, we're in very deep already, aren't 
we? 

(Fanny laughs joyously. Exeunt L. together. The 
stage remains empty a moment and then Helene re- 
turns L. Her manner has entirely changed. She 
wears a hored air.) 

HELi:NE. — (Looking about.) My gloves? I thought I left 
them somewhere — (Going up to the table.) Oh, here 
they are. (She turns with a dispirited air toward 
the front.) Mon dieu! How am I to support life 
for a whole summer in this place? What ennuyant 
people! — All so proper! — No snap, no esprit, no any- 
thing! It is very bad for my nerves to be ennuyce 
and I shall perish, I know. (Yawns elaborately.) I 
might perhaps pass a little time experimenting with 
that child; she's evidently a sensitive. It might be 
amusing; and then it is so long since I tried anything 
of that sort that my hand will be getting out. (She 
turns and glances out through the French window.) 
Think of encountering that old chimpanzee here! — 
who could have expected it? It gave me a shock. 
But then he is such a gullible old thing, and the 
disguise is quite perfect. Lemaitre has made me 
up so wonderfully that even my own mother could 
not recognize me. (Snaps her fingers in the air with 
reviving gayety.) Ah, bah! I can play any role if 
I have the right make-up and scene-setting. 
(She stands with her back toivards the door at R. 
Clay Cadringham enters R. and stands unperceived 
looking at her. He is about twenty-five, good-looking, 
but with rather a fast air. He is dressed in motoring 
costume.) 

Clay. — (Softly and delightedly.) Mademoiselle — Helene — 
Merowska! 

H^LfiNE. — (Turning quickly, with a motion of pleasure.) 
Mr. Cadringham! (She advances with extended hand 
and they shake hands warmly. Her manner with 
Clay is free and easy, very different from her earlier 
self-contained elegance.) What a pleasant chance! 

Clay. — (Laughing.) Chance, nothing! It isn't a chance, 
it's an intention. 

Hi&L^NE. — (Puzzled.) Oh! 



18 

Clay. — Didn't you know I was coifting? 

Heilene. — How could I? 

Clay. — Well, she mentioned to me that you were staying 
here. She knew that would fetch me. 

Helene. — Are you so difficile? I didn't know it. 

Clay. — (Looking admiringly at her.) As adorable as ever! 

HfiLENE. — As much of a flatterer as ever! 

Clay. — By Jove! didn't we have a corking old time of it 
on the Majestic? 

H:6lene. — (With a laugh.) Mon dieu! 

Clay. — Do you remember those deck promenades in the 
moonlight? 

Helene. — Ah-h! That moon seemed made on purpose for 
us, didn't it? 

Clay. — And those cosy heart-to-heart talks in a corner of 
the music room? 

Helene. — Hush! hush! 

Clay. — And those shuffle-board matches we had? 

Helene. — Yes, they were great. 

Clay. — By Jove! how you beat me. Why, you must have 
won a hundred dollars from me in our stakes! 

Helen. — (Gaily.) Ha, ha, ha! I forgot. One is always 
either winning or losing in this world. 

Clay. — (More confidentially.) And those choice little sup- 
pers we used to have with Count Catalini and the 
doctor, after all the frumpy people had gone to bed? 

Helene. — They were adorable! 

Clay. — And that last evening when we carried our cham- 
pagne glasses on deck and drank to each other, and 
then broke the glasses and threw them overboard? 

H:^lI:ne. — Oh, you were an extravagant fellow! 

Clay. — (Reproaclifully.) But you didn't mean it, you 
know. 

Helene. — Comment? — not mean it? 

Clay. — That you liked me a lot. 

H]£lene. — (Goquettishly.) And you thought that I liked 
you a lot? 

Clay. — Rather! 

Hi&LENE. — And why don't you think so any more? 

Clay. — Why, you've never even written to me. 

HELENE. — Mon dieu! — and did I promise to? 

Clay. — Why — er — not exactly; but you implied — 



19 

H^Li:NE. — Oh, mon ami, don't you realize that on shipboard 
one is so free, so Bohemian? It must be the effect 
of the sea air, I think. 

Clay. — (Grinning.) Perhaps it is. I never thought of 
that. 

Hel]&ne. — But on shore it is different. 

Clay.— Why should it be different? 

H^l:ene. — Fi done! one has to be so proper among you 
Americans. Now in this house — 

Clay. — (Looking round scornfully.) Oh, in this house! 
I grant you, it isn't my sort. Nothing would have 
tolled me over but the bait of seeing you. 

HfiL^NE. — I take that as a great compliment. 

Clay. — Oh, you'd better. You must be awfully nice to me 
now I've come. 

H^LENE. — (Archly.) Haven't I always been nice to you? 

Clay. — (With heat.) Oh, you're simply irresistible, you 
know. (Hclene laughs, and he snatches up her hand 
and kisses it.) Give me that rose. 

Hi^L^NE. — Poor old rose! You want it? Why, of course. 
(She hands the rose to Clay who slips it into his 
buttonhole, hut in such a slipshod fashion that it 
presently falls unperceived to the ground. Pris enters 
upon the piazza L. and comes in at the window.) 

Peis. — Oh, Mademoiselle — (He perceives Clay and pauses.) 
Oh — er — I beg your pardon, I am sure. 

Clay. — (Aside.) The little jackass! (Looks supercili- 
ously at Pris.) 

H^LiENE. — (Playfully.) Oh, I must really run away and 
dress or I shall be late for dinner. Au revoir. (She 
trips toward the door at L. Aside.) Well, the visit 
promises no]t to be so very dull after all. (Exit L.) 

Pris. — (Coming forward.) Oh, Mr. Cadringham, I didn't 
know you were here. 

Clay. — (Brusquely.) You ought to be — (Looks daggers 
at him.) 
(Bennington's voice is heard outside.) 

Benn. — (At door R.) I say, Pris, have you seen anything 
of Clay Cadringham? Thompson says he has arrived. 
(Entering.) Oh, hallo, Cadringham, how d'ye do? 
(They shake hands.) I looked for you on the train. 
How did you get here? 



20 

Clay. — Motored across lots from Albany. 

Benn. — You made record time. 

Clay. — You bet! Mine's a big six and she just walks! 

Benn. — And your impedimenta? 

Clay. — Oh, I sent my man along somewhere at early dawn 
or so. Hasn't he got here? 

Benn. — Let's investigate. I don't know anything about the 
domestic arrangements. 

(Exeunt Clay and Bennington R. The instant they 
disappear Pris pounces upon the fallen rose and picks 
it up.) 

Pbis. — (Rapturously.) Her rose! (^Presses it to his lips. 
Professor Von Ginkel appears in the French window 
R.) 

Professok. — Frees, Frees! (Pris starts guiltily, and thrusts 
the rose into his pocket as he looks round.) 

Pbis. — Oh, Professor, you startled me. 

Pbofessob. — 8ohf [The Professor enters with a cautious 
and mysterious air. He tiptoes about, peering round 
the room and even under the furniture in a gro- 
tesque and ahsurd manner.) 

Pbis. — (Astonished.) What is it. Professor? 

Pbofessob. — (In a loud whisper.) Vere she vas? 

Pbis.— She? 

Pbofessob. — (Approaching Pris with a confidential air.) 
Ach, mine Frees, I a curiosity had. 

Pbis. — A curiosity? 

Pbofessob. — To behold again der lady mit der yellow hairs. 

Pbis. — Oh! — You mean Mademoiselle Merowska. (The 
Professor nods.) 

Pbofessob. — She is Polack, you say? 

Pbis. — Yes, she's a Pole. 

Pbofessob. — So strange! 

Pbis.— What is? 

Pbofessob. — (RuhMng his forehead meditatively with his 
forefinger.) She remind me somehows — I know not 
how — of von great clairvoyant I vonce know in Peters- 
burg. 

Pris. — A clairvoyant? How interesting. 

Pbofessob. — Ach, soh! A most vonderful clairvoyant. 
Flammarion and I investigate togedder. Somedimes 
I tink in some treek to catch her. 



21 

Pbis. — Oh! — and did you? 

Peofessor. — No, nevair. Ve call her "der Chameleon." 

Pris.— Why? 

PuoFESsoR. — So many different peoples she appear to be. 
Somedimes von person, somedimes anodder. 

Pris. — How awfully interesting! And did she look at all 
like Mademoiselle? 

Professor. — Ach, nein. She ver dark in complexion vas 
mit eyebrows so black. {He ru'bs his finger across 
his eyehrows.) 

Pris. — Well, then, perhaps it's the Sclavonic atmosphere 
that you feel. 

Proi^essor. — I^ein, nein. Dis lady von Frenchvoman vas. 
Madame Delices she vas call. 

Pris. — And what became of her? 

Professor. — {Shrugging.) She disappear. 

Pris. — Disappear? How could she disappear? 

Professor. — Oh, in Russia it der easiest ting in der vorld 
is to disappear. Perhaps to Siberia she vent. Dere 
some stories vere about some Grand Duke or oder. 
I know not; but she disappear. Plammarion so dis- 
appoint vas. He expect to prove great tings mit her. 
{A gong sounds outside.) 

Pris. — There's the last gong! I shall be late and pa'll be 
mad. {Going L.) Won't you stay to dinner. Pro- 
fessor? 

Professor. — Nein. I eaten already haf. 

Pris. — Good-bye then. {Exit L. The Professor walks into 
the middle of the room ru'b'bing his "bald head medi- 
tatively.) 

Professor. — It so ver strange is! — but somedings tell me 
dot someveres somedimes I haf der blonde lady met 
before. But vere — ? Dot vas der question. 
{He stands shaking his head with a puzzled air.) 

CURTAIN. 



22 



ACT II. 

(Scene the same as the previous except that it is evening 
and the room is lighted brilliantly with clusters of 
electric lights against the walls and a large lamp upon 
the table. The French windows in the centre stand 
open, as if the evening were warm, and the piazza 
outside is lighted also. At the piano sits Helene 
Merowska with Fanny seated on the further side of 
her. Clay Cadringham is leaning over the corner of 
the piano near her; and, further back, Pris is also 
leaning over the piano. All three are earnestly watch- 
ing Helene, who is laughing and talking animatedly 
in dumb show. On the sofa at R., down stage, sit 
Mrs. Klorhammer and Mrs. Jaswell. Mrs. Elorhammer 
holds a book, but is not reading. She and Mrs. Jas- 
well are also looking at Helene, and now and then talk- 
ing together. Up stage, not far from the open French 
windows, stand Mrs. Bennington, Mrs. Ascott and Pro- 
fessor Von Ginkel. All the company are in evening 
dress, the ladies in rich evening costumes, Fanny and 
Violet in simple girlish muslins. Helene's dress is of 
shimmery Nile-green material, which gives her, when 
she moves, a sinuous, snake-like aspect. The Pro- 
fessor's dress suit is very shabby and baggy and looks 
as if it were made for somebody else. The Professor 
bowing as if to take leave.) 



Mrs. Benn. — (Affably.) Oh, must you go, Professor? — so 
early? 

Professor. — I so sorry am, madam, but I to bed very early 
alvays depart. 

Mrs. Benn. — That's too bad; but you know I shall epect 
you to break through your rule tomorrow night. 
You're coming to my ball, you know. 

Professor. — Ach, mine dear lady, vat haf I to do mit balls? 

Mrs. Ascott. — You might collect specimens; there are al- 
ways plenty of them at a ball. 

Professor. — Ah, now you game of me make. 



23 

Mrs. Benn. — Nonsense. You know, you must come, Pro- 
fessor. Pris will never forgive you if you don't. 

Professor. — Mine leetle Prees! (He throws a comical look 
in the direction of the absorbed Pris.) Veil, mine 
dear ladies, den I goot night vill say. Anoder time 
perhaps I can mit Prees converse. 

Mrs. Benn., Mrs. Ascott. — (Together.) Good night, Pro- 
fessor. 

(The Professor goes out through the ope?i window and 
disappears R.) 

Mrs. Benn. — I do wonder where Priestly can be. If he 
doesn't come on the next train I shall begin to feel 
worried. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Is he often so late? 

Mrs. Benn. — No — unless he is specially detained; then he 
usually telephones me. 

(Enter a footman R. who speaks in a low tone to 
Mrs. Bennington.) Oh, yes, Adelaide, you'll excuse 
me a minute? 

Mrs. Ascott. — Certainly. (Exit Mrs. Bennington R., fol- 
lowed by the footman. Mrs. Ascott strolls forward 
and joins Mrs. Klorhammer and Mrs. Jaswell. Play- 
fully.) Well, what plots are you two hatching to- 
gether? 

Mrs. Jaswell. — The old, old story. We were discussing 
Vv^hat Mr. Cadringham calls "the Magnetic Pole." 

Mrs. Klor. — Ha, ha, ha! — never discovered, you know. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Oh, Mr. Cadringham borrowed that bon mot. 
He never invented it. 

Mrs. Klor. — It's very applicable all the same. She's a 
puzzle. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Without enthusiasm.) Yes; — all things to 
all men. But her real self — ? 

Mrs. Klor. — (Confidentially.) How old now do you sup- 
pose she is? 

Mrs. Ascott. — Impossible to say. She might be any age 
between twenty-five and forty-five. 

Mrs. Jaswell. — (Enthusiastically.) She's really wonder- 
ful, isn't she? 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Without enthusiasm.) Wonderful. 

Mrs. Jaswell. — What's the secret of her charm, do you 
think? She isn't exactly beautiful. 



24 

Mrs. Klor. — It's temperament I think. 

Mrs. Jaswell. — She has us all under her spell, hasn't she? 
Mrs. Klor. — I should say so. Why, my husband is per- 
fectly infatuated with her. 
Mrs. Jaswell. — So is mine. 
Mrs. Klor. — I should be green with jealousy if I weren't 

in love with her myself. 
Mrs. Jaswell. — Just my case. 
Mrs. Ascott. — {Laughing.) Really, ladies, this seems to 

be a sort of love feast, with Mademoiselle Merowska 

as the tutelary goddess. 
Mrs. Jaswell. — "Well, you must acknowledge, Mrs. Ascott, 

that she's a fascinating creature. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Oh, delightful! 
Mrs. Jaswell. — She has such a graceful way of doing and 

saying exactly the right thing. 
Mrs. Klor. — So amiable! 
Mrs. Jaswell. — So tactful! so clever! 
Mrs. Klor. — So ready to do anything to please others. 
Mrs. Jaswell. — To play for dancings — 
Mrs. Klor. — Or fill a hand at Bridge — 
Mrs. Ascott. — And how she plays Bridge! 
Mrs. Jaswell. — My husband played pool with her last 

evening and he says he never saw a woman handle 

a cue better. 
Mrs. Ascott. — {With a shrug.) Yes, she does everything 

to perfection. 

{Enter Violet Ascott, R.) 
Violet. — Oh, mama, the Delafields are outside in their 

automobile. They won't stop, but cousin Harriet 

wants you to come out and speak to them; — all of 

you. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Why, of course. {The three ladies rise.) 
Mrs. Klor. — Dear Mrs. Delafield! I haven't seen her 

since — 
Mrs. Jaswell. — {Pulling her hy the dress.) Don't forget 

I've never been introduced. 
Mrs. Klor. — Oh, that's all right. {She slips her arm 

through Mrs. JaswelVs and they move toward R.) 
Mrs. Ascott. — If you'll go on I'll follow you in a minute. 

{Exeu?it R. Mrs. Klorhammer and Mrs. Jasivell. Mrs. 

Ascott turns to Violet.) What's the matter, Vi? 



25 

Violet. — (Turning her head away.) Matter? Is anything 

the matter? 
Mrs. Ascott. — Don't quibble. One can see with half an eye 

that you and Pris are out. What's the matter? 
Violet. — (With sudden vehemence.) Oh, mama! just look 

at him! 
Mrs. Ascott. — Yes, I dare say; — but what have you been 

saying to him? 
Violet. — Nothing. I haven't had a chance to say anything. 
Mrs. Ascott. — I know it isn't nice of him to follow that 

woman about, — but you must have patience and he'll 

get over it. 
Violet. — (Violently.) Ugh! I hate her! 
Mrs. Ascott. — Hush, hush! They'll hear you. Remember 

whose house you are in. 
Violet. — Mr. Cadringham, too — 
Mrs. Ascott. — (Severely.) You know I told you, Violet, 

not to encourage Clay Cadringham. 
Violet. — Encourage him! Why, he hasn't even looked at 

me. He has only eyes for Mademoiselle. 
Mrs. Ascott, — I must say I don't like the way she's been 

flirting with him. And then there's Fanny. 
Violet. — (Impatiently.) Oh, Fanny! 
Mrs. Ascott, — Have you quarreled with Fanny, too? You've 

been life-long friends. 
Violet. — Oh, Fanny's no good. 
Mrs. Ascott. — What do you mean? 

Violet. — (Turning aivay.) Oh, I don't know what I mean. 
Mrs, Ascott. — (Glancing over toward the piano with an 

impatient shrug.) Well — it does look like an epi- 
demic, but we'll take Pris with us. 
Violet. — I don't want him. 
Mrs. Ascott. — (Calling.) Pris, Pris. (Pris rouses himself 

as if from a dream and turns his head.) Won't you 

escort us down the avenue? 
Pris. — (Reluctantly.) Why — er — of course. 

(He leaves the piano and passes R., joining the ladies, 

who are moving toward the door R. At the same 

moment Fanny and Helene hoth rise and move a 

little down stage.) 
Helene, — (Putting her arm around Fanny.) Must you go, 

petite? 



26 

Fanny. — I can't l)ear to — but my head aches so — 
Helens. — It's too bad; but I'll come up and kiss you good- 
night. 
Fanny. — Oh, will you? That'll be heavenly. Then I shall 

go right to sleep, I know. 

(Fanny leaves Helene and goes to Mrs. Ascott.) 

Good-night, Auntie. 
Mrs. Ascott. — (Turning back.) What, Fanny! — another 

headache? 

(Violet and Pris stand near door R., waiting. Pris 

makes an awkward step toward Violet and then stops. 

Violet keeps Jier hack turned to him.) 
Fanny. — Yes, Auntie; isn't it horrid? 
Mrs. Ascott. — It looks as if this place didn't agree with 

you. I shall have to take you home. 
Fanny. — (Eagerly.) Oh, no. Auntie, please not. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Well, why not? 
Fanny. — I'm so happy here. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Happy! — with a headache that sends you 

to bed every night! 
Fanny. — Yes. I never was so adorably happy in my life. 

It's so beautiful here. It — It's like living in a poem 

or a dream. 
Mrs. Ascott. — (Looking curiously at her.) You're a very 

strange child, Fanny. I don't half understand you. 
Fanny. — Oh! 
Mrs. Ascott. — Well, run away now to bed. Perhaps you'll 

sleep it all off. I never saw such a capacity for sleep 

as you've developed lately. 

(Exit Fanny L. Mrs. Ascott rejoins Violet and, fol- 
lowed hy Pris, they go out R. At the same moment 

Helene and Clay Cadringham move toward the centre 

of the room. 
Clay. — At last! 
H6l£;ne. — My dear boy, you must be more prudent. You 

must not say and do things before people. You have 

no discretion. 
Clay. — Oh, discretion be hanged! 
H^L^NE. — People will be talking about us. 
Clay. — Let 'em! 
HEL]i:NE. — Oh, no, it would not do at all. My position in 

this house — 



27 

Clay. — (Sarcastically.) I'm afraid you're becoming a 
prude, too. 

H^lI:ne. — (Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! I, a prude! I like 
that. 

Clay. — Well, I don't. And see here, you're not treating me 
a bit well. 

Hj^iLfiNE. — (Gaily.) Oh, men are such unreasonable crea- 
tures! 

Clay. — (Sulkily.) You know perfectly well that nothing 
but the hope of some larks with you would have in- 
duced me to coop myself up for a week with a house- 
ful of jays — 

H^Li^NE. — Ha, ha! Jays is good! 

Clay. — And guineapigs — 

H^lI;ne. — Guineapigs is still better. Which are which? 

Clay. — Don't tease me! You know I never get a minute 
alone with you. You fool with everybody. There, all 
last evening you were playing billiards with that con- 
founded Jaswell. 

H]Sl:§;ne. — (Lightly.) Colonel Jaswell is a very nice man 
and he plays a great game of billiards. You mustn't 
call him names. 

Clay. — He's a cad and you know it. But he isn't the only 
one. You fool with all the men and make each one 
think himself the ace of trumps. 

H]6L:feNE. — (Banteringly.) Oh, mon cher, I fear you've been 
taking too much wine and it has gone to your head. 

Clay. — You're just playing with me, too. 

H^L^NE. — Mon ami, we all play; life itself is a play, "All 
the world's a stage," et cetera. 

Clay. — (With heat.) By Jove! I'd have you know that 
I'm not playing. I'm in dead earnest, and if you keep 
on this way — 

H^LfeNE. — (With sudden change of manner, very tenderly.) 
And do you really care so much? 

Clay. — Care? Oh, damn! 

H6l:^ne. — (Sentimentally.) Forgive me. I thought that 
you were playing and that it was only I — 

Clay. — (Passionately.) Oh, Helene, — youf 

Hj^l^ne. — Tell me now, how much do you really care for 
me? 

Clay. — You know I'd go through hell for you! 



28 

H^l:^ne. — So much! And suppose — just suppose now — that 
I should test you by asking you to do something very 
delicate, perhaps rather dangerous, for me, would you 
do it? 

Clay. — Set me any stunt you like and I'll just tumble over 
myself to serve you. 

HelI;ne. — (With fervor.) Sometime — perhaps very soon — 
I may claim your promise. (Meltingly offering her 
hands.) And we are always dear, dear friends. 

Clay. — (Rapturously, seizing both her hands.) Your lips, 
H61ene, your lips. 

H:6l:&ne. — (Glancing about her.) Not here. 

Clay. — Listen, Helene. It's a dream of a night — such a 
night as we had on the Majestic. 

H^LifeNE. — Yes — yes. 

Clay. — The lake is a sheet of moonlight. There are boats 
at the boathouse. 

H^L^NE.— Well? 

Clay. — (Breathlessly.) Come with me. Let us go out into 
that dream. Let us throw convention to — the Guinea- 
pigs, and go and drift about in that moonlight all 
night. Come! (He holds out his hand.) 

H^L^NE. — (Hurriedly.) Not now; — later perhaps. There 
are — er — some things I must see about — 

Clay. — Oh, chuck everything! 

Helene. — Later the ladies will be absorbed in their Bridge, 
and the men will be in the billiard room. We shouldn't 
be missed — or, at least, they will think we are on the 
piazza. Go down and smoke your cigar in the rhodo- 
dendron walk and in the course of an hour I'll join 
you. 

Clay. — (Rapturously.) Divine Helene! (He goes out 
through the window and disappears L. Helene moves 
towards the door at L., hut before she reaches it Pris 
runs hastily in at the door R.) 

Peis. — (Breathlessly.) Mademoiselle! — oh, Mademoiselle! 
Just a word — please. 

Helene. — Well, please be quick, Pris, for I'm going up to 
bid Fanny good night. 

Pris. — (Stammering.) It — it's such a heavenly night. Made- 
moiselle, and — and — you're so fond of boating — 

H]&L^NE. — (With a slight laugh.) What! You too? 



29 

Pris. — I too? What do you mean? 

H]&lI:ne. — Oh, nothing, nothing. I only mean that you're 
bewitched with the night as well as I. 

Fris.— (Eagerly.) Oh, Mademoiselle, are you bewitched 
too? That's heavenly! Listen, Mademoiselle. I've 
brought my little boat — the "Fairy"; you know you 
said she was a fairy and so I've named her so — 

H^LfiNE. — Yes ; — well ? 

Peis. — I've brought her around from the float to the wil- 
lows down below the kitchen garden. It's rather dark 
there and — and — nobody will see us — (With a sud- 
den durst.) And, oh, Mademoiselle, will you — won't 
you — go rowing with me? 

H^lIine. — (Amused.) My dear boy, what would your mama 
say if I went out boating alone with you in the moon- 
light? 

Pris. — (Vehemently.) I don't care what anybody says! 

HelI:ne.— Oh! 

Pris. — And I'm not a boy any more, I'm a man. (Making a 
step nearer to her.) Oh, Mademoiselle, if you knew 
all I feel— 

H^LENE. — Mon dieu! (She turns her head away from him, 
concealing an inclination to laugh.) 

Pris. — Will you, Mademoiselle? 

Hel^ne. — (Suavely.) Oh, you're a dear fellow, Pris, and I 
appreciate you, but I can't go with you tonight be- 
cause I'm otherwise engaged to — er — to play Bridge, 
you know. 

Pris. — (Eagerly.) Tomorrow then? 

H^LENE. — Tomorrow, perhaps. Leave the little boat in the 
creek — and we'll see. Au revoir, dear boy. (She airily 
throws Pris a kiss on her finger-tips and trips out L. 
Just as she reaches the door she encounters Benn- 
ington and Senator Klorhammer coming in. She drops 
them a playful curtsey and then runs off L.) 

Pris. — (To himself, rapturously.) Oh, isn't she just ador- 
able! (He perceives the other tioo men and slips 
hastily out at the loindoio and disappears R. Benn- 
ington and Klorhammer come forward conversing. 
Bennington holds a bundle of letters in his hand.) 

Benn. — Yes, Senator, it was your business that detained me. 

Klor. — That's too bad. 



30 

Benn. — We've been going over the ground all day; — Phil- 
lips, my brother and I. 

Klob. — (Grandly.) Well, aren't they struck with the mag- 
nitude of the scheme? 

Benn. — (Dryly.) On paper. 

Kloe. — My dear sir, everything has to be on paper before 
it materializes. 

Benn. — I'm sorry to have to tell you, Senator, that the 
conclusion the house has come to is that we'd better 
not touch it. 

Kloe. — (Falling back in consternation.) What! Why, I 
thought you'd as good as taken it up. 

Benn. — We did think favorably of it at first; but we've 
been interviewing a man — Tom Inches — you know 
him? (Klorhammer nods sulkily) who has been all 
over that territory, and he says the soil of the Wirra- 
Wirra Valley isn't worth turning over with a spade. 

Kloe. — (Violently.) He lies! 

Benn. — His reputation as an expert is pretty good. 

Kloe. — (Blusteringly.) And you mean to tell me, Benn- 
ington, that you put the word of a fellow like that 
against mine? 

Benn. — (Quietly.) I don't mean to put anybody's word 
against anybody's. I only tell you that Bennington 
Brothers don't think it expedient for them to under- 
take the financing of the Calenturas and Wirra-Wirra 
Railroad. 

Kloe. — (Aghast.) By George! But I guess reflection will 
make you change your mind. 

Benn. — (Coldly.) I hardly think so. My brother seldom 
reverses his decisions. (He sinks wearily into the 
large armchair which stands as described at L., down 
stage, and begins to look over letters in his hand.) 
You'll excuse me, Senator? I haven't had time to read 
these today. (Klorhammer goes up stage sulkily. 
Bennington becomes entirely absorbed in his letters.) 

Kloe. — (Aside.) Here's the devil to pay! What to do 
now after I've told all those fellows it was a sure 
thing? (Helene enters L. moving slowly. She has 
a little filmy scarf thrown over her shoulders. Klor- 
hammer stands watching her admiringly as she ad- 
vances. She does not see him.) 



31 

Hi;L£:NE. — (To herself.) I am playing a dangerous game — 
a very dangerous game — but — it is worth the candle! 
(With sudden change of manner.) Pouf! It is silly 
to be nervous. Let us enjoy ourselves while v/e may. 
(She pauses by the piano, takes some flowers out of 
a vase upon it and pins them into her corsage. Then, 
as she turns toward the windows she perceives Klor- 
hammer.) 

Kloe. — {Playfully.) And v/here is the queen of wit and 
beauty hurrying to so fast? 

H6Li:NE. — {In the same manner.) Perhaps to try and collect 
a few subjects. Queens cannot exist without subjects, 
you know. 

Klor. — Haven't you a houseful already? What's the matter 
with me now? 

H£le:ne. — Oh, you're a great subject. I might appoint you 
Grand Vizier. 

Klor. — Haw, haw, haw! That's good. And what do Grand 
Viziers do? 

H^l£;ne. — Oh — er — I don't know. Make themselves very 
agreeable, I suppose. 

Klor. — Will you give me lessons? 

Helene. — As if you weren't already an adept! 

Klor. — {Delightedly.) By George! You hit the bull's eye 
every time, don't you? 

Hj&lene. — Why, aren't you one of the rulers of this great 
country? Don't you hold the future in the hollow of 
your hand? 

Klor. — {Sobering a7id glancing over to the figure of Benn- 
ington, who sits with his hack turned, still absorbed 
in his papers) I just wish I did. (As if with a sudden 
idea he draios near to Helene. Confidentially.) See 
here, Mam'selle, I wish you'd help me out with 
something. 

H6Lt;NE. — Why, how could poor little I help great you, 
Senator? 

Klor. — This is just confidential between us two; — eh? 

Helene. — {Smiling.) I will be discretion itself. 

Klor. — D'you know, I'm clean floored by a back-hander he 
has just given me . {Jerking his thumb in the direc- 
tion of Bennington.) 

HtLtNE. — A back-hander? I don't understand. 



32 

Klob. — You see, it's just this waj^. It's absolutely neces- 
sary for me to have his backing in a big business deal 
I'm interested in, and he refuses. 

HfiL^NE. — Perhaps he knows best. 

Klob. — Pooh! It's because he's pig-headed, — conservative 
and pig-headed. All the Benningtons are. 

H6L:i:NE. — Indeed ! 

Klob. — It's for his own interest to be in with us; — why, 
he can't afford not to. There's millions in it. Now 
I do believe that you with all your chic and so forth 
might talk him over — eh? 

Hi&LfeNE. — Oh, but I don't know anything about business. 

Klob. — All the better. Wheedle him and cajole him and 
get him into a melting humor, then leave him to me. 
Oh, you know how. You have a way with you, you 
know. 

Hf;L±NE. — (Deprecatingly.) Oh, Senator. 

Klob. — Why, you are a kind of witch, I believe. Beat me 
at poker — my own game! Haw, haw! 

H6l£:ne. — (Laughing.) Poker's all a game of chance, you 
know you told me so. 

Klob. — Well, I don't know; it looked like black magic, 
someway. (Hclene continues to laugh.) Jaswell too — 

H^L^NE. — (Very innocently, arching her eye'brows.) Jas- 
well too? 

Klob. — Oh, well, that isn't my circus. But see here, — he 
(indicating Bennington) is as cold as a fish, but you've 
got a mash on him too, you know. Why, I believe 
you could twist him round your little finger if you 
wanted to. 

H^LfeNE. — (Rather coldly, making a motion as if to pass 
him.) I fear you overestimate my abilities, Senator. 

Klob. — (Intercepting her.) No, I don't. Not a bit. See 
here, Mam'selle; I don't expect anybody to do some- 
thing for nothing. We'll put it on a square business 
basis. If you can pull the screws out of him and 
make him unbend, I'll see that you get a pretty little 
block of Wirra-Wirra. Savvy? 

HfeLtNE. — (Puzzled.) Eh? 

Klob. — I mean 'you understand.' Wirra-Wirra will be 
worth its weight in gold in ten years. 



33 

H^LtNE. — (With an innocent air.) Oh, my dear Senator, 
what could I do with Wirra-Wirras?— I who am such 
a wanderer? I am like a little bird in the desert, a 
dove on the waste of the waters. 

Klob. — (Jocosely.) Yet I suppose even little birds are 
sometimes in need of money? 

HelI:ne. — (Laughing.) Oh, of course. 

Klor. — To buy feathers and things. 

H^LENE. — Especially things. 

K1.0E.— (Delightedly.) Oh, you're a peach! (Very conp 
dentially.) See here. I'll tell you what I'll do. You 
play this joker card for me and I'll hand you my per- 
sonal note cashable at any New York bank, for five 
thousand dollars. Will that go? Eh? 

H^LfiNE. — Oh, Senator, you are too generous. I am glad 
to do anything I can for friendship's sake, — just for 
friendship's sake. 

Klor. — No, sir; I've said it, and I'll stick to it. Business 
is business, you know. 

HfiL^NE. — Wait till you see what I may be able to do. 
Leave me alone with him now, and I'll try to polish 
up my wits. 

Klor.— (Jocosely.) Yes, yes; Garden of Eden trick and all 
that sort of thing; eh? 

HfiLi:NE. — Go away now for an hour; then come back and 
see if there is any change of heart. 

KLOTi.— (Delightedly.) Oh, I tell you a woman can get 
around a man every time if she wants to. It always 
has been so since the beginning of the world, when 
the first woman fooled the first man. (Helene motions 
him to go away.) So long, little bird! (Exit R. 
laughing. Helene stands a moment motionless in the 
middle 0/ the room, her hand to her head, her expres- 
sion almost tragic.) 

litLi^^E.— (To herself.) But it was the serpent who whis- 
pered first of all! Well, — I am committed to it now; 
— committed to — everything! 

(She approaches Bennington, who is still adsor'bed in 
his papers. Very suavely.) Good evening, Mr. 
Bennington. 
Benn. — (Looking up with a start.) Oh — er — is that you, 
Mademoiselle H61ene? 



34 

H]e:l^ne. — (Softly.) You are busy. *I fear I interrupt you. 

Benn. — No, no, mademoiselle, I'm glad to see you any time. 
Sit down. (Helene sits near him.) 

HiiLEiNE. — You look so tired. 

Benn. — Yes, I am tired; I've had a harassing day; but it 
will rest me to talk to you. 

H^Li:NE. — Oh, you are so good to say so. I love to talk to 
you. 

Benn. — (Smiling.) Come. Tell me one of those amusing 
little stories you reel off so easily, and I shall forget 
an unpleasant day. 

He;l:I;ne. — (Solicitously.) Oh my dear friend, you work too 
hard. You are getting completely worn out. 

Benn. — Oh, I guess not. 

HfiLENE. — (Sadly.) Your eyes show it. They look faded. 

Benn. — (In surprise.) My eyes faded? 

Helene. — Look at me, dear friend. (Benn. looks at her. 
She fixes her gaze very intently upon him.) 

Benn. — Why do you look at me like that? 

Helene. — (Softly.) Oh, do not talk; you are too tired. I 
will talk to you and amuse you. 
(Pris appears on the piazza outside the open window 
at centre, and stands transfixed, gazing at what is 
going on. His face expresses first astonishment, then 
consternation, lastly horror. Helene has her back 
turned and does not see him. Bennington's face be- 
gins to assume a cataleptic stare. She keeps her 
eyes glued to his face.) You are so tired — so tired — 
so sleepy. You long to go to sleep. (She makes a 
pass before his face.) 

Benn. — (Sleepily.) Wha — what you — doin' — tha' — for? 

H:^Li:NE. — (Softly but intensely.) So sleepy — so sleepy — so 
sleepy. (Her voice drops almost to a whisper. . She 
makes more passes. Bennington's eyes close. His 
head drops forward upon his chest. His whole body 
relaxes and he sinks down in his chair, fast asleep. 
Pris clasps his hand to his head, and, as if frantic 
with terror, rushes off through the window and disap- 
pears R. Helene rises to her feet and stands up beside 
Bennington. Her face wears a stern, commanding ex- 
pression. She spreads her two hands out above his 
head. She speaks authoritatively.) Sleep now. Sleep 



35 

for an hour, and when you wake you will do whatever 
the Senator asks of you. (She moves softly over 
to where the screen — mentioned in stage-setting of 
first act — stands, drags it forward, and opens it out 
around Bennington's chair so that he is entirely con- 
cealed from the room J)ut is in sight of the audience. 
As she finishes. Clay Cadringham bounces in at the 
left-hand window.) 

Clay. — Oh, I say, Helene! You're enough to make a fel- 
low's hair turn grey. Here I've worn out my shoes 
tramping up and down that old gravel walk. And 
I've smoked every cigarette in my case, and you 
haven't materialized worth a cent. 

Helene. — (Playfully.) Don't rage. I have a little secret 
for you. 

Clay. — A secret? ' 

Helene.— Down in the tiny creek below the kitchen gar- 
den among the willow trees, I have a little boat — a 
fairy of a boat — waiting for us. 

Clay.— What! 

H^l^ne. — It's dark down there and nobody will see us go. 

Clay. — Jiminy! 

Helene. — Now haven't I arranged things well? 

Clay. — Oh, you're too clever for anything! How did you 
work it? 

Hf:Li:NE. — Ah — h — h! That's my secret. 

Clay. — Oh, you're a witch; I always thought so! 
(Helene laughs.) 

Hj^lene. — Let me see; how does that song of Verlaine's 
go? 

Clay. — (Joyously.) Oh, hang Verlaine! Come on! 

(He catches her hy the hand and they go out through 
the window and off L. At the same moment enter R. 
Mrs. Bennington, Mrs. Ascott, Mrs. Klorhammer and 
Mrs. Jaswell. They are all laughing and talking.) 

Mrs. Klor. — Didn't she look sweet? 

Mrs. Jaswell. — Did you notice that irridescent crystal 
necklace? Wasn't it wonderful? 

Mrs. Ascott. — I didn't know they were going abroad so 
soon. 

Mrs. Benn. — (Advancing before the others.) I'm really 
worried to death about Priestly. I'm afraid some- 
thing has happened to him. 

Mrs. Ascott. — He may have telephoned. 



36 

Mbs. Benn. — I must go and see if slny of the servants have 

received any message. (Exit L. Mrs. Ascott stands 

at al)out centre of stage. Mrs. Jaswell has seated 

herself "by the table and is looking over the books. 

Mrs. Klorhammer, who has hung about m an un- 

certain way, now approaches Mrs. Ascott.) 
Mrs. Klob. — (Mysteriously.) My dear, let me tell you 

something. I hardly dare speak. 
Mrs. Ascott. — {Smiling.) Then whisper. 
Mrs. Klor. — You remember the other day when I was 

showing you and the others my jewels — ? 
Mrs. Ascott. — Yes. 
Mrs. Klor. — {Excitedly.) My pearl necklace! There isn't 

such another in America. Klorhammer had dealers 

all over Europe picking the pearls up. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Well — and what of it? 
Mrs. Klor. — {Tragically.) Gone! 
Mrs. Ascott. — Impossible! 
Mrs. Klor. — Oh, it's a fact. I only found it out when I 

was dressing for dinner. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Your maid — 
Mrs. Klor. — It was Celestine found it out. I've had her 

for years. She's had endless opportunities if she 

weren't perfect. 
Mrs. Ascott. — This is really dreadful. {She stands a 

minute as if lost in thought. Mrs. Jaswell, who has 

risen and approached the other two, calls to her.) 
Mrs, Jaswell. — Mrs. Ascott, Mrs. Ascott. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Yes. {She goes R. to Mrs. Jasioell.) 
Mrs. Jaswell. — Oh, my dear Mrs. Ascott, may I speak 

with you a minute? 
Mrs. Ascott. — Certainly. 
Mrs. Jaswell. — I'm so troubled. I really don't know what 

to do. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Come, tell me all about it. 
Mrs. Jaswell. — May I? You'll hold it sacred? 
Mrs. Ascott. — Of course. 
Mrs. Jaswell. — I wouldn't have had it happen for worlds, 

— in this house of all others. 
Mrs. Ascott. — But what is it that has happened? 
Mrs. Jaswell. — {Tragically.) I've lost my topaz bracelet. 
Mrs. Ascott. — {In amazement.) Wha-at! 



37 

Mrs. Jaswell. — I had it day before j^esterday. I'm quite 
sure because I toolc it out to wear down to dinner, 
and then I was afraid it was too — 

Mrs. Ascott. — Too what? 

Mrs. Jaswell.— Too gorgeous. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Is it so wonderful? 

Mrs. Jaswell. — (Clasping her hands tragically.) Oh, my 
dear Mrs. Ascott, the Rajah of Gullypore gave it to 
my husband when he was in India and they went 
elephant hunting together. There isn't such another 
out of India. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Your maid — ? 

Mrs. Jaswell.— Oh, I haven't any maid. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Then there's some thief in the house. 

Mrs. Jaswell.— I'm afraid so. I missed a ring a few days 
ago, but I thought I might have misplaced it. 

Mrs. Ascott. — What kind of a ring? 

Mrs. Jaswell.— Oh, it was an antique. I bought it on my 
wedding journey of an old Jew in Paris — Moses 
Pulitzer was his name. It wasn't so very valuable 
but it was odd; — a cobra with two emeralds in the 
head. 

Mrs. Ascott.— (Calling.) Mrs. Klorhammer, Mrs. Klor- 
hammer. (Mrs. Klorhammer joins Mrs. Ascott and 
Mrs. Jaswell.) I want you to tell Mrs. Jaswell what 
you just told me. 

Mrs. Klor. — Oh, no, I couldn't. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Mrs. Jaswell has lost something, too. 

Mrs. KJ.O-R.— (Excitedly.) My dear!— yon have? 

Mrs. Jaswell.— (Nodding.) My big topaz bracelet. 

Mrs. Klor.— Oh! Oh! and I've lost my pearls. 

Mrs. Ascott. — There's evidently some one stealing in this 
house. 

Mrs. Klor.— And stealing very systematically, I should say. 

Mrs. Ascott.— My advice to you, ladies, is to go straight 
to Harriet Bennington and tell her all about it. 

Mrs. Jaswell.— Oh, not for worlds! 

Mrs. Klor. — It would seem to reflect upon her. 

(The ladies are standing a little to the right of centre 
of room, their tacks turned L. Enter L. Mrs. Benn- 
ington. She seems much agitated.) 



38 

Mes. Benn, — (Calling.) Oh, Adelaide, I want to speak to 
you a moment. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Yes. (Slie goes over to Mrs. Bennington.) 

Mrs. Benn. — I never was so upset in my life! {Excitedly.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — Priestly — ? 

Mrs. Benn. — No, Priestly's all right. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Oh, that's a relief. I thought — perhaps — 

Mrs. Benn. — Priestly's all right. I haven't seen him, but 
Thompson says he came home in the nine o'clock 
train. 

Mrs. Ascott. — What is it then? What else could be so very 
tragic? 

Mrs. Benn. — {Excitedly.) Oh, very tragic! 

Mrs. Ascott. — My dear Harriet, you're keeping me on 
thorns. 

Mrs. Benn. — {In a tragic whisper.) My diamond tiara's 
gone! I never keep it in the house you know — it's 
too valuable. I have it at the vaults; but I wanted 
it to wear at the ball tomorrow night and so Priestly 
brought it home yesterday. I haven't shown it to a 
soul but you and Helene. 

Mrs. Ascott, — And your maid, Morton? 

Mrs. Benn. — I've had Morton for years; she's above sus- 
picion. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Come over here, Harriet. 

{She draws Mrs. Bennington over R. to where the 
other ladies are.) Ladies, I want you to tell Mrs. 
Bennington what you've just been telling me. 

Mrs. Klor, Mrs. Jaswell. — {Together.) Oh, not for worlds! 

Mrs. Ascott. — Mrs. Bennington has also lost something. 

Mrs. Benn. — What! Have you been robbed too? 

Mrs. Klor. — My pearls! 

Mrs. Jaswell. — My topazes! 

Mrs. Benn. — My God! {She sinks down upon the sofa as 
if overcome.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — There's somebody in this house thieving, 
Harriet, and it's somebody who knows the ropes, too. 

Mrs Benn. — {Wringing her hands.) What shall I do? 
What shall I do? 

Mrs. Ascott. — Some servant is systematically thieving. 

Mrs. Benn. — {Tragically.) My servants! — they're such 
perfect servants! I never was so comfortably fixed. 

Mrs. Ascott. — You'll have to employ a detective. 



39 

Mbs. Benn. — They'll everyone give warning if they get the 
least inkling of anything. 

Mbs. Ascott.— They needn't. See here, Harriet, here's a 
good plan. Get a good detective, dress him in livery, 
and put him as an extra footman. 

Mas. Benn.— That might answer;— but, oh! what an upset! 
I must consult with Priestly. I can't do anything 
without Priestly. 

Mbs. Ascott. — And where is Priestly? 

Mbs. Benn.— I don't know. I told Thompson to look for 
him. 

Mbs. Ascott.— Don't you think, Harriet, it would be a good 
plan for Mrs. Klorhammer and Mrs. Jaswell to show 
us just where and how they were keeping their 
jewels? It might give us some idea to work upon. 

Mbs. Benn.— An excellent plan. (To the others.) Will you? 

Mbs. Klor., Mrs. Jaswell. — Oh, certainly. 
(They all move to the left.) 

Mbs. Ascott.— (Cheerfully.) We'll appoint ourselves a 
vigilance committee of four. 

(Exeunt L. As they go out, Bennington, who has to 
this time remained wrapped in profound slumher, 
shows signs of waking. He raises his head and begins 
to stretch his arms and legs.) 

Benn. — (With a tremendous yawn.) Ah — oh — ow — eee — oo! 
(He stretches prodigiously, and one foot coming in 
contact with the screen knocks it over. It goes down 
with a hang.) 

Beih-n.— (Sitting up suddenly as if he had received a shock.) 
The devil! What was that? (8ees screen.) Oh, 
how did that thing get over here anyway? (Gets up 
and puts the screen back in its place. Sits down 
again. Yawning.) I do believe I've been asleep. Yes, 
I must have been. (Puts his hand to his head.) Let 
me see; what was I doing last? I can't seem to re- 
member. (Glances round the room.) Why, where's 
everybody? It looks as if people had all gone to bed. 
I must have slept an unconscionable time. (Pulls out 
his watch.) Eleven o'clock! Good gracious. (He 
gets up and moves uneasily toward centre.) What was 
it I was going to do? I'm sure I was going to do 
something, — something very important. (He walks 
aimlessly to and fro. Enter Klorhammer R.) 



40 

Klob. — (Jovially.) Hello, Bennington! Where you going 
to? 

Benn. — (Aimlessly.) Why — er — I wasn't going anywhere. 
(His face suddenly lights up as if he had rememliered 
something.) I'm very glad to see you, Senator, I 
was just looking for you. 

KxoE. — Oh, you were, — eh? Something very important? 

Benn. — Yes, something very important. 

Klor. — The Wirra-Wirra Valley Improvement Co., perhaps? 

Benn. — (His countenance clearing steadily.) Yes, yes, of 
course. The Wirra-Wirra Improvement Company; 
what else could it be? 

Klor. — And you're convinced of the greatness of it? 

Benn. — Why, of course. It's the most tremendous scheme 
ever conceived. 

Klor. — (With satisfaction.) Ah-h! Big money, big money! 
You can't afford not to be in it, can you, Bennington? 

Benn. — Of course I can't. 

Klor. — It's as plain as the nose on your face. 

Benn. — (Feeling of his nose.) Plainer. 

Klor. — (Boisterously.) Haw, haw, haw! Why, I tell you, 
Bennington, this makes me feel happy all over, 

Benn. — (Genially.) Me too. I guess my nap has set me up. 
I feel like a boy this evening. 

Klor. — Tell you what, Bennington, we must celebrate this 
glorious compact with something extra good. 

Benn. — Of course we must. What'U you take? 

Klor. — I say: let's go down to the billiard room and send 
for Thompson and tell him to invent something en- 
tirely new for the occasion, — a draught for the Gods. 

Benn. — We will. 

Klor. — Things are not always what they seem, are they? 
(He locks his arm into Bennington's.) And cheered 
by that Olympian beverage we will talk things down 
fine; — dot our "i's" and cross our "t's." Hey? 

Benn. — (Genially.) It's a bargain. 

(Exeunt R. arm in arm. Throughout this last scene 
Bennington's manner has entirely changed. The 
normal reserve has vanished and he seems genial and 
expansive. The stage remains empty a moment, and 



41 

then Professor Von Ginkel appears upon the piazza, 
R., peering in at the window. He has taken off his 
dress coat and wears an old dressing-gown, lohile his 
tald head is covered by a shabby smoking cap. After 
a moment he enters on tip-toe and peers about the 
room. 
Pbofessor. — No;— dere is nobodys here. {Coming forward 
rather excitedly.) It most extraordinary vas becoming. 
Ach, soh! I cannot sleep. I go out for a leetle valk 
mit mine pipe. I down by der vater stroll. It ver 
dark down dere is; so many trees dere are. I sit 
and meditate mit der universe. (Scratches his head.) 
Ach, soh! den I perceive two peoples, ver quiet — 
creeping through der shadows of der trees. And dey 
into von leetle boat get, and dey so soft-paddle avay 
— I see not vere. (Mysteriously.) Von of dem yellow 
hairs had! (Straightens himself suddenly, as if he 
had let out a secret.) Ach, soh!— but der Oder von I 
not see who, — but I mine fears haf — (Uneasily.) 
Ach, mine Frees, mine Frees! (Walks about.) Gott 
im Himmel! I dinks dot lady efferybody's head have 
togedder turned! 

(Pris appears upon the piazza R. and enters hastily 
through the window. His manner is nervous and dis- 
ordered.) 

•pms.— (Calling.) Frofessor,— Frofessor! 

(The Professor turns with a joyful air.) 

Professor.— AcTi, mine Frees!— den dot vas not you. 
(Rushes up to Pris and embraces him.) 

P^is.— (Disengaging himself.) Who was not me? 

Professor.- AcTi.'- nobodys;— nodings. I so happy am to 
behold you dot I nonsense talk. 

Pris. — (Very seriously and mysteriously.) Professor, I 
want to ask you something very particular. 

Professor. — (Beaming upon him.) Ach, soh? 

Pais. — Is it — is it easy to hypnotize people? 

Professor. — Oh, somedimes; somedimes not. 

Pris. — And that — that clairvoyant you told me about; could 
she hypnotize people? 

Professor.— Oh, ver likely, but I haf never see her. 

Pris. — And can you hypnotize people? 

Professor — Perhaps. I have somedimes so done. 



42 

Pris. — And make them do things — things they did not 
mean to do? • 

Professor. — Oh, dot anoder question vas. It all depend. 
Ve cannot hypnotize people against dere vills. {Ab- 
ruptly) Vy you ask? 

(Pris turns his hack suddenly, clasping his hands 
convulsively together over his breast and groans.) 
Vat der matter vas, mine Prees? 

Pris. — Matter ? — oh, — nothing. 

Professor. — Vot? Noddings — ven you so loud grunt? 

Pris. — Oh, — er — I think perhaps I ate something at dinner 
that — er — disagreed with me. 

Professor. — (Meditatively.) Ach, soh! Ver' badly to dis- 
agree mit you it seems. 

Pris. — Yes, it is pretty bad. 

Professor. — And vere you feel it? 

Pris. — ( Confused. ) Oh, — er — everywhere. 

Professor. — (Shaking his head.) Oh, dot ver' serious 
is, ver' serious. Der best ting a Seidlitz powder vas. 

Pbis. — (Hurriedly, still confused.) No, no, I don't want 
any medicine. 

Professor. — Nein ? 

Pris. — I shall — I shall feel better presently, I think. 

Professor. — Don't you belief it. (Hooking his arm affec- 
tionately into Pris's.) You com' home mit me, mine 
Prees. I a goot Seidlitz powder vill prepare for you, 
and den you shall in mine leetle dressing room all 
night slumber. 

Pris. — (Impatiently pulling away from him.) No, I don't 
want anything. (He half turns his back. The Pro- 
fessor looks at him with a puzzled air; then a broad 
smile overspreads his countenance.) 

Professor. — Ach, mine Prees, you lof-seek are. 

Pris. — (Turning suddenly.) What? 

Professor. — I dinks you in lof must be. 

Pris. — (Hastily.) Oh, no, no, at least — not now. 

Professor. — Lof, you know, a sort of indigestion is. 

Pris. — (As if in pain.) Ouch! 

Professor. — And mooch more bad as stomach-aches. 

Pris. — Oh, please. Professor, don't tease me any more. Do 
let me alone. 



43 

Professor. — (Solemnly, looking at Mm.) Ach, soh! Den 
I myself to bed vill get. 

Pris. — (Abruptly.) Don't let me keep you. Good night. 
(The Professor tiptoes off toivard the hack. Just before 
he reaches the wincloio he turns round and looks at 
Pris — who has his hack turned — with a hroad smile, 
at the same time, in grotesque pantomime, rubMng 
first his heart and then his stomach.) 

Professor. — (Calling hack.) But haf a care mit der lady 
mit der yellow hairs, mine Prees. 
(He slips out onto the piazza and exit R., while Pris 
stands in the centre of the room clasping his hands 
tragically.) 

CURTAIN. 



44 
ACT III. 

NIGHT. 

The stage represents the upper hall in the Bennington 
house. Two-thirds up stage there runs across the 
stage the 'balustrade of the staircase, broken, in the 
middle, by the opening of the descending staircase, 
which vanishes down at the back. At each side of this 
opening the balustrade ends in a tall newel post, 
richly carved and holding a cluster of electric lights. 
At the extreme back there is a handsome arched win- 
dow, supposedly upon the landing out of sight below. 
From the balustrade to the front there runs, upon 
both sides, the wall of the hall, broken upon the left 
by two chamber doors, both closed, and, upon the right, 
by a closed door down stage, and, between this and 
the balustrade, an archivay leading into a side 
passage. On the left, between the two doors, there is a 
luxurious lounge with pillotvs, beside it a small table, 
and about it several chairs, making a sort of cozy 
corner. There is some other furniture in the hall as 
wall-space permits, and upon the walls pictures, also 
other clusters of lights. There are palms and other 
plants banked in the corners by the balustrade. From 
below, all through this act, there come at intervals 
soft snatches of dance music, indicative of the ball 
going on below. As the curtain rises Fanny and 
Helene are discovered standing together in the middle 
of the stage. Helene is richly dressed in full ball 
costume. Fanny ivears a negligee ivrapper. Helene 
has her arm around Fanny who is clinging to her. 
In this act all the men are in evening clothes, and all 
the women — with the exception of Fanny — in full 
ball dress.) 



Fanny. — (Plaintively.) Yes, it's simply disgusting. I'm 
losing every bit of fun going off to bed this way night 
after night. 

HfiLiiNE. — Yes, I must confess, it is too bad, petite, but I 
am sure this fit of headaches will not last long. It 
is only a phase. You will be better before long. 



45 

Fanny. — Auntie says — 

H^LENE. — (Suddenly alert.) Yes? — what does Auntie say? 

Fanny. — That this place doesn't agree with me and she 

will take me away. 
HfiLl:NE. — Well, perhaps it hasn't agreed with you. Who 

knows? 
Fanny. — (Half crying.) But I couldn't qo away from you, 

Helene. 
H^LENE. — (Soothingly.) There, there, there, little one, do 

not cry. You are nervous. You must get to bed and 

rest. I will come as soon ?s you are undressed and 

sit beside you. 
Fanny. — Oh, Helene. I don't know what I should do if 

you didn't come and kiss me good night. It always 

makes me so happy that I go right off to sleep. 
HiELtNE. — (Kissing her.) There; run along now. (Fanny 

moves a step or two. Clay Cadringham appears at 

the back coming up the stairs.) 
Clay. — Oh, Hel — (Seeing Fanny and checking himself.) 

Oh, Mademoiselle Helene, is that you? I've been 

looking everywhere for you. 
H]el:&ne. — (Turning laughingly to him.) It doesn't look 

like anyone else, does it? 
Clay. — These are our waltzes, — the waltzes you promised 

to me. Have you forgotten? 
HjgiLENE. — Presently; be a little patient. 

(Clay frowns and disappears down the stairs. Fanny 

runs hack to Helene.) 
Fanny. — Oh, Helene, I wish you wouldn't. 
Hel^ne. — Wouldn't what? 
Fanny. — Encourage Mr. Cadringham. 
Helene. — (Laughing.) Encourage Mr. Cadringham! And 

do I encourage him? 
Fanny. — Oh, Helene, you know you talk with him a great 

deal. 
Helene.— Well? 
Fanny. — He — he's not nice. 

Helene. — (Demurely.) Why, he seems to me very nice. 
Fanny. — He — he — flirts horridly. 
H]elene. — (Banteringly.) How dreadful! 
Fanny. — And — he plays cards. 
H6l:§:ne. — (Laughing.) So do I. Don't I play Bridge? 



46 

Fanny. — Oh, you know, that's different. And then — (Very 
mysteriously) he gets drunk sometimes. 

HiiLENE. — (Simulating horror.) Have you ever seen him? 

Fanny. — N — no; but Auntie says — 

Helene. — My dear little Puritan, don't worry your head 
about me. He is nothing but a boy, and I am a woman 
of the world. He can't come an inch nearer to me than 
I choose to permit. Look! (Lifting her hand and 
making a little gesture in the air.) With one little 
push of my finger I could sweep him quite away. 

Fanny. — Oh, Helene, do sweep him away. 

H]i;LENE. — Perhaps I may — sometime — when he ceases to 
amuse me. (She playfully tips up Fanny's face dy the 
chin and kisses her.) Now run off and tuck yourself 
up, and I will come presently and sing you to sleep. 

Fanny. — Dear Helene! (Exit down the arched passage- 
way R. Helene leans over the balustrade and calls 
softly.) 

H]6lI:ne. — Mon ami, are you there? 

(Clay's head reappears up the stair-way.) Do come up. 

I have something to say to you. 

(Clay comes up and joins her. He looks sulky.) 

Clay. — Why don't you come down? 

H]e:lene. — I must say good night to poor little Fanny first. 

Clay. — Oh, you're always spooning over that little fool. 
What do you do it for? 

HfiLliNE. — Allons! what a jealous thing you are! Do you 
want everything for yourself? 

Clay. — You make me tired! 

HiiLENE. — (Suddenly becoming serious.) Come, don't be 
nasty. You know you're the only one in the house 
who is anything to me — 

Clay. — Oh, come now! 

H^l:e:ne. — My only real friend; — and I need a friend. 

Clay. — Helene! 

HELENE. — (Growing more dramatic.) Yes, you are the 
only one I can trust, — the only one I can turn to in 
the hour of danger. 

Clay. — (In astonishment.) Danger! 

H^L^NE. — Yes, danger. I am in great peril, mon ami. 

CLAY.^Danger! Here! — Impossible! 



47 

H6lI;ne. — Do you not know that Russian spies are every- 
wbere? 

Clay. — Russian spies! In this house! 

Hel^ne. — Yes; I am watched. I am sure of it. 

Clay. — But why — why? 

HfiL^NE. — Oh, my friend, you do not know. You forget 
that I came of a patriot family — exiled — persecuted — 
wherever I go. 

Clay. — Good God, Helene! But here — here surely — you are 
sheltered and safe. 

H6l:§:ne. — Don't you believe it. I am not safe. The bolt 
may fall any moment. 

Clay. — If you'd only not be so mysterious. If you'd tell 
me everything. 

H6l:^ne. — (Mysteriously.) I cannot explain to you; there 
are too many threads. You must trust me. 

Clay. — I will trust you — to all eternity! 

Helene. — (Fervently.) My only friend! And help me? 

Clay. — How can I help you? 

H:elene. — You know that you promised me last night that 
when I asked something difficult of you you would 
do it. 

Clay. — Hell itself hasn't any difficulties when it is to serve 
you. 

H^LtNE. — You can save me. 

Clay. — Only tell me how. 

Helene. — I must make my escape. 

Clay. — Now? 

Helene. — This very night. 

Clay. — Oh, glory! 

Helene. — Listen. There is the night express at one 
o'clock which stops a moment at the station near 
here. Will you take me to the station yourself in 
your automobile? 

Clay. — Oh, won't I just! 

Helene. — This is my scheme. We go down into the ball- 
room; we are seen everywhere. I am gay. I dance, 
I laugh, I talk. Nobody will think but that we are 
two idle butterflies like everybody else. And then 
when people are beginning to go in to supper I slip 
away and get ready. You slip away and get your 
machine ready. You will wait for me out in the 
road by the west gate. 



48 

Clay. — Not in the avenue? 

Helene. — No, out in the road. It will save time; and 

then if we should be seen no one will know where 

the machine came from. I will slip down the avenue, 

jump in, and we're off! 
Clay. — Glory! Won't it be a grand elopement! 
Helene. — Oh, but you must not go with me. 
Clay. — What? You're going to leave me out after — I've 

saved you? 
Helene. — You shall come to me. I will telegraph. 
Clay. — (Crestfallen.) Oh! 
Helene. — Don't you see that it is important that you 

should come back into the ballroom and be seen, so 

that no one shall connect you with me? It will 

deepen the mystery. 
Clay. — (In admiration.) By Jove! What a scheme! 

Foozle 'em all up, so there'll be an undying mystery! 
Helene. — That's the idea. 
Clay. — Splendid. Helene, you ought to have been a great 

actress. 
HiiLENE. — (Tossing her head.) Ought to have been! 
Clay. — (Admiringly.) Are! 

Helene. — Then our little conspiracy is all settled? 
Clay. — (Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! (Suddenly growing 

serious.) But I don't see where I am to come in. 
HelI:ne. — Don't I assure you that I will send for you as 

soon as I get there? 
Clay.— There? Where? 
H:6;lI}Ne. — (Hurriedly.) I will telegraph you and — you 

shall come to me. 
Clay. — Oh, I see what it is; you don't believe in me, you 

don't trust me! 
Helene. — Am I not trusting you? 
Clay. — You've heard stories about me, , and so you think 

there's no fibre in me. 
Helene. — No, no! 
Clay. — I have been wild — God knows I have been wild 

enough, and I haven't wanted to tie myself, but since 

I have known you all that is changed. If you would 

marry me, Helene — 
H^LfeNE. — (With sudden emotion.) Ah, dieu! You are 

offering marriage — to me? 



49 

Clay. — Yes, why not, Helene, why not? 

HELi:NE. — Too late, too late! 

Clay. — No, not too late, Helene; why should it be too 
late? Surely I can make you happy — ? 

HiELJEiNE. — Oh, my dear boy, we can't talk of this now. 
This is no time nor place. (MeUingly.) Later — 

Clay. — (Fervently.) And then I shall never leave you 
again. Do you suppose I will ever leave you, Helene? 

H^L^NE. — {PusMng Mm.) Go down, now, and I will join 
you presently in the conservatory. 

Clay. — Hark! That waltz! — do you hear it? How can 
you resist it? 

Hi;Li:NE. — It is ravissante. 

Clay. — Oh, I long to take you in my arms and whirl — 
and whirl — into Paradise! 

HfiLfiNE. — {Putting her hand over his mouth.) Hush! I 
hear somebody coming. (He snatches her hand and 
clasps it.) 

Fanny. — (Outside, calling.) Helene! 

HiiL^NE. — Let me go, you rash boy. We shall get caught. 

Clay. — (Passionately.) One kiss, Helene! 

Helene. — Will nothing content you? 

Fanny. — (Outside, calling.) Helene, Helene! 

HelI:ne. — There — go — go. (Kisses him. Clay runs down 
the stairs. Calling.) I am coming, carissima. 
(Helene moves slowly forward, with a wearied air.) 
One wearies even of conquest, but — I can get rid of 
him when I have used him. (A pause.) And the 
poor boy has actually offered me marriage — me! 
Well, if it were not for my entanglement with the 
vicomte, I might — (With sudden emotion.) Ah, 
dieu! what a miserable mixup we make of this 
existence! 

(Exit R. through archway. At the same moment the 
closed door R. down stage is pulled open, and Ben- 
nington's head is poked out.) 

Benn. — Oh, hello! (Looking around.) Oh, I thought I 
heard someone talking. Thought it might be Klor^ 
hammer. Where on earth can Klorhammer be? 
Those signatures ought to go down now. 
(Pris appears, running up the stairs at the "back, 
and crosses hurriedly over just as Bennington is 
about to shut the door.) 



50 

Pris. — Pa, pa! • 

Benn. — Oh, is that you, Pris? I thought it might be the 

Senator. I'm looking for him. 
Peis. — It's only I, pa. 
Benn. — Well, you'd better run away again. I'm very busy 

just now finishing up some papers which must be 

ready to-night. 
Pris. — But, pa — 
Benn. — Time flies, and time's money to me, Pris. {He is 

ahout to shut the door.) 
Pris. — (Excitedly.) But, pa, pa. I must speak to you. 

I've got something very important — 
Benn. — (With a resigned air.) Well, be quick! 
Pris. — Oh, pa, have you been making any sort of — of 

contract with — with Senator Klorhammer? 
Benn. — (Surprised.) Hey? 

Pris. — (With increasing agitation.) Because, pa, don't! 
Benn. — (Severely.) Run away, Pris, there's a good boy. 

You don't know anything about business, and I can't 

waste any time. (Altout to shut door.) 
Pris. — But, pa, I'll tell you what he said. 
Benn.— He? Who? 
Pris. — The Senator. 

Benn. — Well, what did he say? Hurry. 
Pris. — (In ever increasing flutter.) It was when I was 

in the card-room just now. I don't think they knew 

I was near them. 
Benn. — They? Who? 
Pris. — The Senator and Colonel Jaswell. 
Benn. — Jaswell! I wouldn't trust Jaswell any further 

than I could see him. He's always hard up, and 

snatching at anything to boost himself with. 
Pris. — They were talking about some deal — some big 

deal — that they'd been making, 
Benn. — Well, what's that to do with me? 
Pris. — Oh, they talked about you, too. The Senator was 

in great spirits. He told Colonel Jaswell that you 

were fixed all right. 
Benn. — Fixed all right! If that's all you've got to say, 

Pris— 



61 

Pris. — But — it isn't. The Senator said it was all the 
doing of that little foreign girl. 

Benn. — Little foreign girl? 

Pris. — I — I suppose he meant Mademoiselle. 

Benn. — Oh, you suppose. 

Pris. — He said she'd sicked you into it someway; that 
she was a peach, and could twist you round her little 
finger. 

Benn. — (Severely.) Now I know you are romancing, Pris. 
Nobody can twist me round his finger, and I haven't 
had the slightest conversation with Mademoiselle. 
(Going.) 

Pris. — (Desperately.) But, pa — pa; I saw — I saw her 
myself. 

Benn. — Saw what? (Pris looks over Ms shoulder appre- 
hensively.) You seem to have taken leave of your 
senses, Pris. 

Pris. — Oh, I'm so afraid of her. (He leans over and 
whispers into his father's ear.) 

Benn. — Wh-at! (Catches Pris by the arm.) Last evening? 

Pris. — Last evening. 

Benn. — Good Lord! Come in and tell me all about it. 
(He draws Pris within, and shuts the door. Helene 
appears R. from the archway, walking slowly. Her 
manner is rather disturbed.) 

HiiLENE. — Everything is in train; — an hour or two more 
— and then — (Moves a few paces forward.) Yes, 
it is time I was gone. There are adverse currents 
in the air. I do not know what they are, but I 
feel them; I am uneasy. (With some agitation.) 
What has made me do this thing? It is not only 
dangerous, but — (Sighs.) I suppose it is my des- 
tiny. Those jewels were too much for me. If I 
had not been so desperate! — my empty exchequer! 
— my debts — ! People should not exhibit such 
jewels! (With sudden hardening of manner.) Ah, 
bah! What is the matter with me? I am losing 
my nerve. This won't do. Vogue la galere! (Snaps 
her fingers in the air.) A few more waltzes and 
then — (She starts for the stairs, but meets Violet 
coming up. Very smilingly and suavely.) Ah, 
Violet, tired of dancing already? 



52 

Violet. — (Coldly.) I haven't been dancing. (Helene 
laughs, and runs off down-stairs, while Violet conies 
down stage with agitation.) There! I knew it was 
so. He slipped off up here to see her alone, and she 
— {Suddenly.) Oh, I can't bear it! — I can't bear 
it! {She drops upon the lounge and Juries her face 
in the pillows, sobbing. Bennington's door opens, and 
his voice is heard inside.) 

Benn. — {At door.) You did right to come to me, Pris, 
but mind, not a word of this to anyone. 

Pris. — {At door.) No, pa, not a word. {Violet, at the 
sound of Pris's voice, sits up suddenly, listening.) 

Benn. — It's perfectly preposterous, of course, — but our 
own guest — 

Pris. — Yes, of course, pa. 

Benn. — And you must behave as if nothing had hap- 
pened. 

Violet. — {Aside, wildly.) Oh, what has happened? 

Pris. — Yes, I'll be awfully careful. {Pris emerges from 
the door. Violet collapses again.) 

Benn. — And, by the way, if you run across Klorhammer, 
tell him I'm waiting for him. This business better 
be settled at once. {Violet sits up again.) 

Violet. — {Aside.) Business? Klorhammer? Then it's 
not — 

Pris. — All right, pa. {Bennington closes the door, and 
Pris starts up stage; sees Violet. In surprise.) 
Vi! — you here! {Violet turns her bach.) Oh, Vi! 
{Violet shrugs her shoulders. Pi'is goes nearer.) I 
want to say something to you, Vi. 

Violet. — {Over her shoulder.) Don't you speak to me, sir! 

Pris. — How can I say it if I don't speak to you? 

Violet. — Then don't say it. 

Pris. — But I must, Vi; I — I'm so unhappy. 

Violet. — {Suddenly turning round.) Unhappy? You? 

Pris. — Yes. 

Violet. — Has she given you a backhander? 

Pris. — YouWe giving me one now. Oh, Vi, why are you 
so nasty with me? 

Violet. — Well, I like that! You a false — 

Pris.— Oh! 

Violet. — Ungrateful — 



53 

Pris. — Oh, oh! 

Violet. — Barefaced, neglectful — 

Pris. — Oh, Violet, how can you say such horrid things to 
me? I — I'll go away. (Starts up stage.) 

Violet. — Pris! 

Pris. — (Turning 'back.) Yes, Vi. 

Violet. — (Repentantly.) I didn't really mean all that. 

Pris. — Oh, Vi, if you'd only be good to me! You don't 
know how miserable I am. 

Violet. — Oh, you poor boy, what has that horrid Made- 
moiselle done to you? 

Pris. — I thought you were fond of her, too. 

Violet. — Are you fond of her? 

Pris. — Oh, no, no — not now; — that is — 

Violet. — I hate her! — at least, no, I don't hate her — now. 

Pris. — Let's not talk about her any more. You do care 
for me, don't you, Vi? And you don't mean all those 
horrid, nasty — (Puts an arm round tier.) 

Violet. — Oh, I'm ashamed of myself, Pris. (Puts an arm 
round his neck.) Come, let's not think anything 
more about it. I'm afraid we've both been very 
silly; but it's all that w^oman's fault. 

Pris. — We ought never to quarrel, Vi. 

Violet. — No, we ought never. 

Pris. — We've cared for each other so long. 

Violet. — Ever since we were little bits of things. 

Pris. — (Laughing joyously.) At dancing school I always 
liked best to dance with you. 

Violet. — (Laughing.) And I liked best to dance with you. 

Pris. — I've been looking everywhere for you, to dance with 
me to-night, but I couldn't find you. 

Violet. — I haven't been dancing; — that is — 

Pris. — I didn't want to dance if I couldn't dance with you. 

Violet. — And I didn't want to dance if I couldn't dance 
with you. 

Pris. — Let's go and have a turn now. 

Violet. — Let's. 

(They move up stage, Pris with his arm about Violefs 
waist. At this moment Senator Elorhammer appears, 
coming up the stairs. He seems in great spirits, and 
his manner is more flamboyant than ever.) 



54 

Klob. — (Jovially.) Hello, young man, what you doing, 
skulking up here? 

Pbis.— (Coldly.) Nothing. 

Klojb. — Seems to me you're letting the millionaire get all 
the innings. 

Pris. — He's welcome to them. 

Kloe. — Poland and America are waltzing together, and I 
tell you it's a dream. 

Pbis. — (Coldly.) Oh — er — Senator, father's looking for 
you. 

Klor. — And I'm looking for him. Happy coincidence! 
Haw, haw, haw! This his room? (Pointing R. Pris 
nods. Elorhammer goes over, knocks at the door, 
opens it, and goes in, closing the door after him.) 

Violet. — Let's not go down and dance, after all. I'd 
rather stay here and talk. 

Pris. — All right. Just as you say. (They return to the 
chairs and seat themselves. As they do so, Fanny 
emerges from the archway R. She is dressed as 
"before. She walks slowly, with a somnambulistic 
air. Her face is upturned but vacant, and she appears 
to be looking at nothing, Pris and Violet start to 
their feet and look at her in astonishment.) 

Pris. — Fanny! 

(Fanny pays no attention, and does not appear to 
see them. She crosses to the door at L. down stage, 
opens it, enters very softly, and closes it after her. 
Pris and Violet stare at each other.) 

Violet. — What does it mean, Pris? 

Pris. — What can it mean, Vi? 

Violet. — It can't be that Fanny is — 

Pris. — Oh, no, no. That's unthinkable! 

(He sinks down upon the lounge and hides his face 
in his hands. Violet puts her arm round him.) 

Violet. — Tell me, Pris — 

Pris. — No, no, no! Don't ask me anything, Vi. 

Violet. — Oh, Pris! 

Pris. — The world seems turning upside down! 

Violet. — Hark! That's your father's voice. 

Pris. — (Looking up.) And the Senator's. 

Violet. — They're talking very loud. 



55 

Pris. — They've evidently lost their tempers. 

(Bennington's door is suddenly flung open, and Sen- 
ator Elorhammer emerges, looking very red and 

angry.) 
Klor. — (Loudly.) I must say I think you're playing me 

a dirty trick, to turn me down at the eleventh hour 

when nothing was wanting but the signatures. 
Benn. — (At the door, coldly.) I'm sorry, but it can't be 

helped. 
Klor. — Helped? — helped? Oh, damn it! And without any 

explanation, either. 
Benn. — Probably you could explain it if you wanted to. 
Klor. — (Furiously.) I? I? Why, you're insulting me, 

sir, — insulting me! Curse it! I won't stand it! 

(He rushes off at the hack, down the stairs. Ben- 
nington closes the door.) 
Violet. — What can be the matter with Senator Klorham- 

mer? 
Pris. — (Gloomily.) That — that's a part of the upside 

downness. 

(Mrs. Ascott appears, coming up the stairs.) 
Violet. — And here's mama, now. 
Mrs. Ascott. — (Cheerfully.) Hullo, children! (Coming 

forward.) What on earth's the matter with the 

Senator? 
Pris. — (Without looking at her.) Is anything the matter? 
Mrs. Ascott. — Why, I should say so. When I met him on 

the stairs just now he didn't say a word, but looked 

fierce enough to eat me. 
Violet. — Oh, mama, Pris and I — 
Mrs. Ascott. — (Smiling and nodding.) Yes, I see. You 

and Pris have made it up. I'm very glad. 
Violet. — We really weren't out, you know. 
Pris. — (Protestingly.) Oo — oo — oo. 
Violet. — (Laughing.) At least — 
Mrs. Ascott. — You haven't looked in upon Fanny, have 

you, Violet? 
Violet. — (With sudden emMrrassment.) Fanny — ? 
Mrs. Ascott. — I'm dreadfully worried about Fanny. She 

looked as pale as a ghost to-night, and didn't eat 

a thing at dinner. I am afraid I ought to take her 

right home. 



56 

Violet. — (Coldly.) I wouldn't bother about Fanny, mama. 
I guess she's all right. 

Mrs. Ascott. — I don't understand you, Violet. You know 
your cousin isn't all right. 

Violet. — (Nonchalantly.) Oh, I don't mean anything, 
only — 

(The door at L. sloiuly opens, and Fanny emerges. 
She moves in the same vacant manner as hefore. 
Mrs. Ascott regards her for a minute in silent 
amazement, and then starts towards her.) 

Mrs. Ascott.— Fanny ! (Fanny pays no attention, 'but 
moves on. Mrs. Ascott rushes forward, grasps her 
hy the arm, and shakes her. Sternly.) Fanny, what 
have you been doing in my room? (Fanny utters a 
little cry, as if violently awakened, and staggers. 
Mrs. Ascott holds her fast, and continues to shake 
her.) What are you doing here? Answer; what 
are you doing here? 

Fanny. — (Faintly.) Nothing. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Fiercely.) You stole out of my room like 
a thief; — and what have you got in your hand? 

Fanny. — (As before.) Nothing. 

Mrs. Ascott. — You are telling me a lie. 

Fanny. — (Piteously.) Oh — auntie — I feel so faint. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Poh! You are making it up. I believe 
you've been making everything up. 

Pris. — I don't believe she has, Cousin Adelaide. She looks 
as if she were going to keel over right away. Let 
me help her. 

(He supports Fanny by one arm, and Mrs. Ascott 
keeps her grasp on the other, while they move Fanny 
to the lounge, upon which she collapses. Violet, who 
has risen, draws away from her loith every appear- 
ance of aversion.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Sternly.) Now open your hand. 

Fanny. — (Faintly.) I — I — can't. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Another lie. We'll see whether you can 
or not. (She forces Fanny's hand open, and utters 
a little cry.) Grandmother's rings! (She takes the 
rings out of Fanny's hand and glares at her with 
an expi'ession of horror.) My God, Fanny! then 
you — you are the thief! 



67 

Pris. — Oh, no, no; it can't be! 

Mes. Ascott. — Pris, will you please go and find your 
mother, and bring her here? Do it as quietly as 
possible, and don't let any one suspect why I want 
her. (Pris goes up stage and disappears down the 
stairs. Mrs. Ascott stands over Fanny, glowering. 
Violet stands aloof, looking askance at Fanny.) Oh, 
that I should live to suffer this disgrace! You mis- 
erable child, I wish I had never brought you to this 
house! 
Fanny. — (Piteously.) You'll stand up for me, Vi, won't 

you? 
Violet. — (Curtly.) Don't ask me. 
Fanny. — (Reproachfully.) Oh, Vi! 
Violet. — How can I stand up for you, when I saw you 

myself? 
Fanny. — (Gasping.) Saw — me — ? 
Mrs. Ascott. — You mean just now, don't you, Violet? 
Violet. — N — o; several days ago. 
Mrs. Ascott. — (Intensely.) What! Speak out, Violet. 

Tell everything you know. 
Violet. — It was that night when the Chamberlains were 
here, and we had the Vaudeville, and Fanny had a 
headache and felt faint and went off to bed. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Yes, I remember. 

Violet. — When I came up to bed she seemed fast asleep, 
and so I undressed quietly and got into bed with- 
out speaking to her. 
Mrs. Ascott. — Well! — and then — ? 

Violet.— And then after a little while I saw Fanny slip 
out of bed and go over to the bureau. It was bright 
moonlight, and I could see her plain as day. 
Mrs. Ascott. — And what did she do? 
Violet. — She opened my drawer, and took out my little 
jewel case, and unlocked it; — nobody but she knew 
where the key was; — and she took out those five 
double eagles that Uncle Augustus gave me on my 
birthday. I saw her take them out one by one. 
Mrs. Ascott. — What did she do with them? 
Violet. — She went softly out of the room. 



58 

Mrs. Ascott. — Why didn't you sp«ak to her? 

Violet. — I thought it was some joke at first, and then I 
was scared. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Do you know where she went? 

Violet. — No. I lay very quiet, and presently she came 
back and got back into bed, and seemed fast asleep 
again all in a minute. 

Mrs. Ascott. — And why haven't you told me anything 
about it? 

Violet. — I didn't want to get Fanny into trouble. 

Mrs. Ascott. — {In an awful voice.) Trouble! She's got 
herself into trouble enough! 

(During the foregoing dialogue Fanny has sat staring 
at Violet with an expression of horror. Now she 
collapses suddenly upon the cushions.) 

Fanny. — (Passionately.) It isn't true! It isn't true! It 
isn't true! 

Mrs. Ascott. — Hush! Fanny, how dare you, when Violet 
saw you? 

(Mrs. Bennington appears at the hack, coming up 
the stairs. She is followed by Pris and Watson. 
Watson is dressed in livery.) 

Mrs. Benn. — Oh, dear Adelaide — ! (Coming down stage.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Tragically.) Harriet, the thief is found! 

Mrs. Benn. — (Looking at Fanny.) Oh, no, no! Don't tell 
me! 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Tragically.) I tell you, Harriet Benning- 
ton, because I am an honest woman, but it kills me. 
I caught Fanny coming out of my room with these 
in her hand. (Showing rings.) 

Mrs. Benn. — Oh, I can't believe it! 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Harshly.) Now, Fanny, sit up and confess 
everything. 

Fanny. — (Hysterically.) There isn't anything to confess. 
I haven't done anything. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Don't add falsehood to everything else, you 
wretched girl! 

Fanny. — (Moaning.) Oh, oh, oh! Nobody believes me. 

Mrs. Benn. — (Compassionately.) The poor child! 

Mrs. Ascott. — Oh, Fanny, confess, confess. Tell every- 
thing, and perhaps the matter can be hushed up. 



59 

Fanny. — (Still hysterically.) There isn't anything to tell. 
I don't know anything! 

Mrs. Ascott. — (In an awful voice.) Fanny! 

Watson. — (Coming nearer.) I believe the young lady is 
speaking truth, madam. Appearances are against 
her, but I'm inclined to think she isn't responsible. 
Perhaps she's been sleep-walking. 

All. — Sleep-walking ! 

Watson. — Has she ever walked in her sleep? 

Mrs. Ascott. — Often. 

Watson. — Ah, that's at the bottom of it, no doubt. The 
young lady is evidently abnormal, what they call 
a sensitive. If we could only put her back into the 
place and condition where you found her, perhaps 
she would go on with her dream, and furnish us 
with the right clue. 

Mrs. Ascott. — But how can we? 

Watson. — Is there anyone in the house who can hypno- 
tize? 

All. — Yes. (They look suddenly at each other in a 
startled way.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — Mademoiselle — 

Pris. — (Interrupting.) No, no, don't ask her. 

Mrs. Benn. — Why, why not, Pris? 

Pris. — Perhaps the Professor can do it. He told me he 
had hypnotized people sometimes. 

Mrs. Benn. — And do you know where the Professor is? 

Pris. — I saw him mooning round in the conservatory 
awhile ago. 

Mrs. Benn. — Run down and see if you can find him, Pris. 
(Exit Pris doion the stairs at the back.) 

Violet. — That doddering old thing! 

Watson. — Well, perhaps he ain't so doddering as you might 
think. Miss. I was standing at the conservatory door 
watching the dancers when he came along; and 
" Keep your eye on the lady with the yellow hair," 
says he. 

Mrs. Benn. — The Wretch! 

Mrs. Ascott. — Does he know anything about the robbery? 

Mrs. Benn. — Ye — s. I told him. He's so wise I thought 
he might suggest something. 

Mrs. Ascott. — And what did he suggest? 



60 

Mrs. Benn. — Why — er — nothing. He just kept rubbing his 
head and blinking and saying*" Ach, soh." 

Violet. — (Derisively.) Oh, of course! 

Watson. — Well, I have kept my eyes on her, and she does 
nothing but dance. You'd think she was dancing for 
a wager. 

(Pris and Professor Von Ginkel appear at hack, up 
the stairs.) 

Professor. — (Advancing, smiling and rubhing his hands.) 
So ve some leetle phychic exberiments shall try, is it 
not? Dot ver interesting vas. 

Watson. — Do you think you could hypnotize this young 
lady, sir? 

Professor. — (Beaming.) Perhaps, perhaps. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Sharply.) Sit up, Fanny! (Fanny sits 
up.) Won't you sit here, Professor, please. (She 
places a chair facing Fanny and the Professor seats 
himself.) Now, Fanny, take these jewels back in your 
hand. (She endeavors to force the rings into Fanny's 
hand, hut Fanny shrinks away.) 

Fanny. — (Agitatedly.) No, no. I can't. I — I'm afraid. 

Mrs. Ascott. — What are you afraid of? You weren't afraid 
when you went into my room and filched them out of 
my drawer. (Fanny groans.) 

Watson. — Don't you see, Miss, that you'll have lo do it to 
clear yourself, and to furnish us with the clue. 

Mrs. Ascott. — Yes, that's it; the clue. 

Watson. — Don't be afraid. Nothing will hurt you. 
(Fanny takes the rings.) 

Professor. — Now mine dear young lady ve vill begin. Fix 
your eyes steady mit me. 

(Fanny looks at him. He glares fixedly into her eyes 
and Fanny becomes cataleptic. He makes a few 
passes similar to those made by Helene hut more 
clumsy.) Ach, soh! Now come. (He takes Fanny 
hy the arm and draws her to her feet. The others 
stand around and watch breathlessly, Pris with an 
expression of shrinking terror.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — She was right here when I found her. 

(The Professor leads Fanny to the position indicated 
by Mrs. Ascott.) 



61 

Professor. — (Commandingly.) Now you vill go vere 
before you intended, and you vill do vateffer it vas 
you before intended to do. You hear me; now go. I 
go not mit you. You must yourself direct. 
(Fanny sivays atout for a moment, then moves slowly 
across the stage, and exit doivn the archivay R. Wat- 
son follows her, stepping softly. Mrs. Ascott, Mrs. 
Bennington a7id Violet follow him. Pris and the Pro- 
fessor remain, the latter leaning against a chair, 
apparently adsorbed in a hroivn study.) 

Pris. — {In an awestruck tone.) Oh, Professor, I'm sure I 
know where she's going. 

Professor. — I also mineself dink. 

Pris. — And I'm sure what they are going to find out, and — 
I simply can't bear it! 

Professor. — (Wagging his head.) Ver sad, ver sad! 

Pris. — She's been using Fanny. 

Professor. — It certainly haf dot abbearance. 

Pris. — Oh, Professor, why should she do this? — here, in 
this house, where we all loved her and would have 
done anything for her? 

Professor. — Ach! I know not; — perhaps she not know 
herself. 

Pris. — Not know herself? Why, she must know. 

Professor. — I dink perhaps she not so mooch intend as 
she yoost let herself go. 

Pris. — It's inconceivable! 

Professor. — Such powers ver dangerous are; — more dan- 
gerous to der possessors as to any von else. 

Pris. — Why, how can that be? I don't understand. 

Professor. — (Solemnly.) Ach, mine dear Prees, ven 
peoples play mit dese psychic powers dey playing mit 
fire are. Dey demselves open to der powers of dark- 
ness. Dey der souls surrender. 

Pris. — (With a shudder.) Oh, I thought all that was a 
superstition. 

Professor. — Nein, nein. It altogether true is — ver'-sad-true. 
I dells you, first must you visdom acquire before you 
mit fire meddle. 

(Enter through the archway R. Fanny clinging to 
Violet, who supports her. A little behind them come 
Mrs. Ascott and ilfrs. Bennington, who has her hand- 
kerchief to her eyes.) 



62 

Violet. — You'll forgive me, Fanny, won't you? 

Fanny. — (Hysterically.) Oh, Vi, I don't understand! I 

don't understand! (She sinks down upon the lounge.) 
Violet. — It's all right. Fan. It wasn't your fault at all. 

She's just been making you do these things. 
Fanny. — (Moaning.) Oh, I wish I was dead! 
Violet. — (To Professor.) Oh, Professor, it was the greatest 

success in the world. 
Professok. — (Calmly.) Ach, soh! And vot did she? 
Violet. — She went straight to Mademoiselle's room and 

opened a little drawer in her dressing table and 

dropped the rings in. And then — 
Pris. — And then — ? 
Violet. — Oh, then we made such an exclamation that she 

came to and woke up. I don't think she was very 

hard asleep. 
Professor. — Perhaps not, perhaps not. I not ver practised 

am. 
Mrs. Ascott. — The detective has gone down the side stairs 

to find her in the ball-room and bring her up quietly. 

We don't want any scenes. (To Mrs. Bennington.) 

Courage, Harriet. Bear up. 
Mrs. Benn. — I shall never get over this, — never! (Seats 

herself. ) 
Mrs. Ascott. — That woman is an adventuress. I felt it 

from the first. I never trusted her. 
Mrs. Benn. — Oh, hush, Adelaide! Nothing is proved yet. 
Mrs. Ascott. — I should think that everything was pretty 

conclusively proved. (To Fanny.) How do you feel 

now, Fanny? 
Fanny. — (In a muffled voice, from the pillows.) Oh, oh, 

oh! 
Mrs. Ascott. — (Kindly.) There; rest quietly and you'll 

feel better. 

(Enter Watson R. from the archway, walking softly.) 
Watson. — Has she passed this way? 
Mrs. Ascott. — No, she hasn't. 
Watson. — Then she's in her room now. One of the maids 

saw her step up the side stairs a minute or two ago. 

Looks as if she might have got wind of something. 
Mrs. Ascott. — But how could she? 
Watson. — Oh, you never can tell with such people. 



63 

Mrs. Benn. — (Convulsively.) Oh! 

Mrs. Ascott. — But aren't you afraid you'll lose her? 

Watson. — Oh, no. Better give her a little rope — to hang 
herself with. 

Mrs. Benn. — Oh, you loretch! 

Watson. — If she's any idea of making off I don't think 
she'll go down those side stairs. If she should, I've 
two men ready to stop her. I've laid a kind of a trap 
for her, you see. I've emptied the servants' hall there, 
and the maids are sitting on the steps three deep, 
skylarking with the men. She won't want to run the 
gauntlet of that, I'm thinking; she'll rather take the 
risks this way, where she doesn't know there's any- 
body. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Vindictively.) We'll be ready for her. 

Violet. — Indeed we will! 

Watson. — (Suddenly.) Sh — sh — ! 

(He peeps doion the archway, puts his finger on his 
lips, and then draws McTc among the plants by the 
balustrade. The others remain very quiet, down 
stage. Helene emerges R. from the archway, walking 
hurriedly. She has a gauze veil tied about her head, 
and icears a long cloak over her ball dress which 
completely envelopes her. She does not appear to 
see the group down stage. As she turns up stage 
Watson steps in front of her.) 

Watson. — (Obsequiously.) 1 beg your pardon. Miss. 

Helene. — (Making a movement to pass round him.) Excuse 
me; I am in a great hurry. 

Watson. — (Moving also so as to intercept her.) Just a 
moment, please. 

Helene. — (Impatiently.) Will you please let me pass? I 
haven't a moment. (Moves to pass him.) 

Watson. — (Moving to intercept her.) I've just a question 
or two to ask you, Miss. 

H6lI:ne. — (Haughtily.) Get out of my way, please! (Mov- 
ing to pass him.) 

Watson. — (Intercepting her.) Where were you going. 
Miss? 

Helene. — (Imperiously.) If you don't let me pass I'll call 
the servants. 



64 

Watson. — Oh, do! They'd like nothing better. 

(Helene for a moment seems taken ahack.) And what 

is that you're carrying under your cloak? 
H:fiLENE. — (Furiously.) How dare you! 

(Tries to pass him. Watson intercepts her.) 
Watson. — I arrest you, Miss, in the name of the law. 

(Helen&s face 'becomes contorted with fury. She 

utters a little scream and tries to rush past Watson. 

He closes with her, and they have a hand to hand 

tussle, Watson trying to hold her and at the same 

time to possess himself of what she hides under her 

cloak. Suddenly she throws him violently off and 

rushes doivn the stairs. Watson, who holds in his 

hand a little velvet satchel, staggers back from the 

violence of her push.) 
Watson. — (Breathlessly.) See if the things are all there. 

(He flings the satchel toward the others and flies 

down the stairs after Helene. Pris picks up the 

satchel and puts it on the table.) 
Professor. — Ach, Gott! Der chameleon a great actress is, 

but dot time she lift der mask. 
Pris. — Oh, Professor — ! 
Professor. — From der first I some strange suspicions haf 

had. 
Pris. — Suspicion of — ? 
Professor. — Ya; in dot screech she gif herself avay alto- 

gedder entirely. 
Pris. — It isn't — ? it isn't — ? 
Professor. — Ya, ya. It is der Petersburg clairvoyant. It 

is Madame Delices. 
Pais. — Good heavens! 

(Bennington's door is burst open and Bennington's 

head is thrust out.) 
Benn. — Hallo! What's all this racket? (Coming out.) 

Harriet! Adelaide! What's this? What are you all 

doing here? 
Mrs. Benn. — (Hysterically.) Oh, Priestly — 
Mrs. Ascott. — Oh, Cousin Priestly — 
Mrs. Benn. — Oh, Priestly, the most awful thing — 
Violet. — Mademoiselle — 



65 

Pris. — (Solemnly.) Pa, we've discovered the thief. 

Benn. — Not — ? not — ? {Looks at Pris, who nods.) Good 
God! {He leans upon a chair as if overcome.) 

Mrs. Ascott. — {Who has T)een fmnhling with the satchel 
and tryiiig to open it.) Cousin Priestly, do you think 
you could open this? There seems to be some catch in 
the clasp. 
{Bennington takes the satchel.) 

Benn. — Pris, bring me my bicycle wrench on my table. 
{Exit Pris R. into room.) It seems to be locked. 

Violet. — Do you know, we've discovered that Fanny has 
been hypnotized? 

Benn. — Fanny too? 

Mrs. Ascott. — Fanny too? What do you mean? 

Benn. — Nothing, nothing. It's all so overwhelming. 

Mrs. Benn. — Oh, isn't it! 

{Pris returns with the wrench. Bennington dreaks 
open the tag and pours the contents out upon the 
tal)le. All gather around, uttering cries.) 

Benn. — Heavens ! 

Mrs. Benn. — My tiara! 

Mrs. Ascott. — Mrs. Klorhammer's pearls! 

Peis. — Mrs. Jaswell's bracelet! 

Violet. — My gold eagles! 

Benn. — And brooches and rings and pins that nobody had 
missed! Oh, to think of it! 

Professor. — Der reality so mooch more surprising alvays 
is as der unreality. 

Mrs. Benn. — {Wringing her hands.) Oh, I shall never get 
over this, — never! 

Professor. — Madam, in dis vorld ve over efferytings event- 
ually get. 

{Enter Watson R. from archway. He seems ex- 
hausted and out of 'breath.) 

Watson. — The bird has escaped us. 

All. — Escaped! 

Watson. — My word! how that woman can run! I thought 
/ was something of a sprinter, but I ain't a patch on 
her! 

Benn. — How did you lose her? 



.66 

Watson. — She went down these stairs and I after, as you 
saw, sir. And she dodged round to the side door, and 
out and down the west avenue. She went just like 
the wind. I could just catch the flutter of her skirts 
as she ran. And in the road just outside the gate 
there was an automobile waiting — 

Benn. — (In amazement.) An automobile waiting! 

Watson. — Yes, sir. It looks like a put-up job, don't it? 

Benn. — It's simply incomprehensible! 

Watson. — Well, she tumbled into it and off they went like 
a streak. 
(Everyone looks at Watson for a moment's pause.) 

Benn. — And where do you think she — they — can have gone? 

Watson. — Impossible to say, Mr. Bennington. You might 
go anywhere in the world in an automobile; but I 
might hazard a guess. 

Benn. — And that is — ? 

Watson. — You see that road is the straight road to the 
railroad station, and I believe there's a night express 
to the city, isn't there? 

Benn. — Yes, there is. 

Watson. — Well, it's not unlikely she was aiming for that 
train. (Pulling out his watch.) If so she's on it 
now. Now, with your permission, sir, I'll telephone 
to headquarters to have a squad in the station to 
overhaul that train and spot the lady. 

Mrs. Benn. — (Starting up.) No, no, no! You mustn't. 

Watson. — What ? 

Mrs. Benn. — (Agitatedly.) My poor Helene! My beautiful 
Helene! I can't have her tormented and persecuted. 

Watson. — Well, upon my word! Didn't you send for me 
to hunt this thing down? 

Mrs. Benn. — (Brokenly.) Oh, I didn't know — I didn't 
dream — 

Watson. — Humph ! 

Benn. — Yes, Mr. Watson, you might as well drop it here. 
I hate a scandal. I should feel badly to have this 
matter come to court. It is better to let her go. 

Mrs. Ascott. — (Sarcastically.) Especially as she's beaten 
after all! -* 



67 

Watson. — Just as you say, Mr. Bennington. 

Professor. — {Rubbing his hands and beaming.) Dis vas 
der most interesting oxperiment altogedder dot I 
effer assist at. Ach, soh! I shall to Flammarion 
write. 

CURTAIN. 



*M 13 1907 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

HM 

015 905 196 1 



